The Gathering Storm
by exb756
Summary: As Nat Somers' homeland plunges into civil war, and his colony is destroyed, he must flee his home and make the ultimate sacrifice...or face the End. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome! Rated T for moderate violence/gore and some language.
1. Prologue: Introduction

The morning sun broke upon our ship as it neared land. Squinting against the rays of the sun, I sat up out of bed, and gazed out of the small porthole that served as my cabin's window. The ocean was all around the boat, splashing up against its sides, beating upon the shore just a short distance away. We had finally made it.

My name is Nat Somers—a simple, down-home name. Born and raised in the land of 3S, having lived there for twenty years, I was far from the iron grip of the conglomerate mining company that ruled our land. 3S, standing for Strength, Service, Sacrifice (the miner's code) ruled much of its land with an iron grip, subjecting them to harsh taxes, heavy labor drafts and the omnipresence of the dreaded 3S Security Force, a police group that inflicted harsh penalties upon those guilty (or not guilty) of crimes and often conducted random searches, arrests and even public executions. Live wasn't easy in the countryside; we were often subjected to attacks by cave spiders, who crept from their old mineshafts at night to hunt. But we were mostly free from the "Sec", as my father called it; their presence was minimal. Life was almost perfect.

Until the resettlement program began. Diamond City, the capital of the land of 3S and home to the towering headquarters block, was crowded with immigrants and laborers. In an attempt to free up space (and possible allowing the company to take care of political enemies), thousands were shipped off to our lands. And we were to be shipped off to the Far Lands, across the Great Western Ocean. We were going where no man had gone before.

As the ship weighed anchor and slowed to a halt, I rose from my bed, throwing some old, ragged work clothes on, and started out the door. The Sec allowed me only two bags of belongings; the mining equipment and food they would provide, those being part of the labor draft. Despite being forced to work and leave the land you had forever, it wasn't all bad; Sec presence would be minimal, and I had previous mining experience at Trojan Pass. It was an experience I'd prefer not to recount. But the food would be free, grown on our own farms, and we'd have some degree of freedom, able to start anew here in the Far Lands.

The hallway was bustling with other settlers, all different varieties; those equipped with their mining gear already, some in their work clothes, women and children, teenagers and toddlers, all carrying just two bags each, trying to work their way through the crowd. I was single; it was easier trying to keep track of yourself rather than an entire family. I was able to worm through the crowd, provide my "Resettlement Project" ID to the two SMG-armed Sec officers at the gangplank, and proceed down to the sandy beach below. My new life had arrived; little did I know that events would soon take a turn for the worst. And then it only went downhill from there.


	2. Colony of Shadows

The beach swarmed with men, women and children. Already the colony was established; the cabins and tiki huts lined the sands. Beyond that was a stark pine forest, spreading as far as the eye could see into a backdrop of mountains and peaks looming in the distance, enshrouded in cloud. I shivered slightly as a chilly wind blew in from farther west; it was quickly replaced by the warm breeze emanating off of the ocean. It felt almost like paradise—paradise away from home…sweet home…

"You there! ID card."

I was awoken from my slight trance by the Sec lieutenant standing before me. I had somehow been tossed into a line of eager settlers, and stood before the armored Sec lieutenant, a stone sword attached to his backpack, several unlit torches on his belt and his standard issue SMG slung lazily on his shoulder. Fumbling in his own pack, I produced my Resettlement ID card to the man, who gave me a lazy wave of his hand to pass me onwards. "Bloc 4." The man called out as I passed. He was referring, I suppose, to the number of the house I was to be a resident of for the rest of my life.

I found Bloc 4 in the interior of the town. Once you passed the wooden pontoons out on the beach, a stone slab road led into town, which was guarded by a simple wooden palisade around the perimeter and with small wood towers at each of the four corners. Simple gates guarded the four entrances and exits; they seemed relatively light, easy for a large mass of zombies to pass. The defenders were in an even more abominable position; all of the men held simple wooden bows, save the lone pulse gun set up at the entrance to the beach. A Sec officer manned that; a shiver went down my spine as memories of Trojan Pass came back to me. I entered the gate and walked past rows of wooden cabins, each twenty blocks by twenty blocks, with a semi-triangular roof, and all wood. All had a torch outside to light up the street; here and there small wooden posts with a torch on top passed for streetlights. Couldn't expect glowstone lamps in this dinky little village, not like in the Estate Quarter of Diamond City.

Bloc 4 was rustic; I opened the door to find three rooms total; two bedrooms, each with a simple john inside, and a main area with a rug, crafting table, double chest and furnace, along with a table for eating and a simple stove for cooking. The tools and belongings scattered around were evidence that I was not living alone; all of a sudden, a head popped out of the room to the right.

"'Allo there!" the head said with a heavy accent. He stepped out of the room, an unfinished stone pickaxe in hand and a strong shaft of wood in the other.

"Oh…I didn't know that I'd have a…"

"Roommate?" I was cut off. "Neither did I. But better than living alone, I suppose. Name's Bush, Wil Bush. Resettlement Program, I suppose?" the new man asked, pointing to my clothes. The blue khakis were a sign of my curse.

"Yeah. Name's Nat, Nat Somers."

I was feeling more comfortable with my new roomie by the second. His voice dropped lower, no longer shouting, and he began to talk in a calmer tone, laying the unfinished pickaxe on the crafting bench and sitting down at the table.

"So…Resettlement. I can't imagine how that must feel." Wil spoke, taking a swig from the canteen lying on the table. It was ale; I was never fond for alcohol of any sort, only drinking at communion.

"It wasn't very pleasant, I can say that," I said to him, taking a seat beside him. Wil was dressed up in leather armor, in perfect condition save a single gash across the chestplate.

"Can't even imagine…Sec throw you out, just you?"

"Me and a few other guys. I didn't see them on the ship," I said. Three other of my highschool friends—two of them miners as well. I hadn't heard from them since they left our town of Moarca Ravine.

"A pity. Most people who come here as miners don't survive long. Not to get you down or anything—"Wil chuckled, trying to reassure me, and took another deep swallow from his canteen. I began to feel a sinking feeling, and the tear on his chestplate did nothing to reassure me.

"How long have you been here?" I asked him. If he had been over a month, it would've been better.

"At least a month. Dunno…days get lost within the daily tedium, ya know," he answered. I felt a little more relieved. Just when I began to settle down on the table, hungrily eyeing the loaf of bread sticking out of the chest by the wall, a scream of agony rent the air outside. It resounded throughout the village, echoing until it disappeared completely. Wil's response didn't leave me optimistic.

"Ah…damnit…not another one…how long is this going to go on?" he remarked, cursing silently under his breath again and raising himself up from the bench. I followed him closely, swallowing a lump in my throat as the scream echoed again, and out the door, into the main thoroughfare. Other doors from other cabins opened; exasperated men, frightened women, crying children came out, all gazing at the west gate. Three shapes were distinct; carrying what looked like a sack. Then it hit me; the scream was coming from the sack. They had another person—maybe?—in that sack. Two Sec soldiers were running down the street, followed closely by a mob of other scraggly, dirty miners. Wil followed closely, cursing under his breath; I struggled to keep up with the growing mob of settlers rushing down towards the gate. Luckily, we were able to see what was going on; through a crack in the mob, I could see the two Sec soldiers approach the group of tattered miners. They were covered in dirt and blood; scratches angrily reddened their faces and arms, and one of the others was bleeding profusely from a behemoth open wound across his shoulder.

"By Notch…it happened again…" I heard Wil stammer silently. The crowd quieted down as the sack was opened. The horribly wounded man was exposed; I could hardly look at the grotesque wounds and tears that laced across his torso and shoulders. But what most attracted my attention was the color of the wounds; they were almost pulsating with a purplish glow, and the skin around them was taking on a blue color, as if it were becoming infected. The wounded man's breathing was becoming raspy and forced; it quickened, and he was no longer able to scream. The two Sec soldiers zipped up the bag, and began to drag it to the gates. No one spoke; no one questioned their behavior.

It had happened again? What had happened again? That sinking feeling in my stomach was starting to come back. What the hell was going on in this colony?


	3. The First Descent, Part I

I awoke in a sweat, gasping for air, feeling a bubble of heat burst around me. The cool night air swarmed in, chilling the glistening sweat on my naked body. My sudden cry of terror had managed to rouse my roommate, Wil; I heard him sit up, shaking the covers off him. The dizzying aura of sleep still spun around my head.

"All right in there?" Wil asked with his heavy accent. His words were slightly jumbled, but they came through clearly. I knew what had happened; the terror always came back to me, the screams, the smoke choking the air, the soft telltale "_dunk-dunk-dunk_" of the pulse guns. Memories of Trojan Pass always came back to me; the panic, the confusion, the fear and the crowds, gunned down by the Sec forces ordered to defend them, to hold the line, and if nothing else to clusterbomb the place out of existence. It always managed to come back to me. But I had never mentioned a word to anyone.

"Yeah…just a bad dream," I gasped, exasperated. It always felt so real.

"Go back to sleep. Get as much as you can. Big day tomorrow, remem—"Wil began, but fell back into sleep almost immediately. _Alcohol's got to him_, I thought; he was sound asleep, his snoring echoing lightly throughout the blocky cabin. I lay back down on the woolen mattress, pulling the red comforter back up over my body. As I fell into sleep again, the picture of the lady with the pig stared back out at me, never moving…

"Gear's all ready?"

I checked the leather pack strapped to my back; an iron pickaxe, a stone sword, a stack of sixteen torches, as well as some cobblestone for impromptu building and three loaves of bread for snacking in the mines. It was the first day on the job; the mining squads were assigned to Delta Ravine, where the incident yesterday supposedly happened. No one had said a word about it; in fact, besides the final checks going on, not one of the miners uttered a single word. Their faces spoke for them; fear, anxiety, caution. Most of them had stone pickaxes; in my squad of four miners, I was the only one with an iron one, making me doubly important.

"Yeah…it's all ready," I answered, trying to sound confident. My eyes were just slightly shorter than Wil's; he was only an inch or two taller than me.

"Hey, relax. Maybe you'll find something interesting…"

"Diamonds?" I asked, sounding hopeful now. I did have the iron pick…

"It's always possible. We haven't probed the deeper reaches of Delta yet. It's because of the attacks…" Wil cut his sentence short as one of the Sec officers checking out the teams shot him a threatening look. He broke eye contact immediately, to avoid a confrontation; my confidence level was dropping quickly. I felt more nervous than ever; what was down there that made the miners so anxious? Sure, there'd be zombies and skeletons, and maybe even a dreaded creeper…but standard protocol took care of those, and the squads were well armed. What was it that made Delta so frightening?

"Alright, squads, listen up," the Sec officer raised his voice. He didn't need to speak over anyone; no one else was talking. "It's Delta today until dusk. You work till noon, break for lunch, then work until dusk, bring your haul up and check back in. Anyone who fails to check back in gets the stocks for the night," the officer barked, glancing down at a clipboard. _Stocks. How medieval_, I thought. _Its Sec. Might as well get used to corporal punishment_.

Everyone was checked out. We were led by the Sec officer out into the pine woods beyond the colony. The mountains in the distant west disappeared, to be replaced by the dark forest canopy. Here and there roamed cows and pigs; the occasional chicken came by, only to be harshly booted away by one of the Sec escorts. Any miner that fell out of line got booted as well, kicked back into line; I made sure to stay in my place until we reached a rocky outcropping about a mile in. I had to close my eyes tight to avoid height sickness.

The ravine descended into total gloom below; the bottom was barely visible, shrouded in a menacingly thick layer of grayish fog. Tiny shapes moved down there. _Miners? _I thought. _No. Not miners._ They were creepers…at least some of them. I swallowed the lump growing in my throat, turned away, and gripped the handle of my sword tightly.

"Delta Ravine. In now, out later. Bring up your haul, and you'll be paid. Come up empty-handed…" the officer pulled out a baton and slapped his gloved hand. "Get to work!" he barked, and motioned to a rickety makeshift elevator along the side of the ravine. Our squad was in second; a first squad of gruff-looking, armored miners went in first, armed with swords and bows—the advance guard, sent to clear out the lit up area of any stragglers. We went in next; the first team in. I stepped gently on the creaky elevator as it came back up, pulled up by a complex system of winches, pulleys and ropes. My stomach dropped as Wil stepped on with a heavy thud, causing the boards to groan under the weight. We descended.

"What a cheery place…" I muttered, gazing down at the abyss.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, newbie," said one of the others. He had dark brown hair shaved carefully into a buzz-cut; his chin protruded far out, and his arms bulged with muscles. A tattered cloak was wrapped around his back, pinioned to the leather aegis he wore. The man carried a hunting rifle; it was old and worn, but it was better than the short bows the first guard carried. "Name's Jeff, Jeff Warren. Went to the colony to pay off my debts, never realized how slow going it would be." He chuckled at his little joke; no one else spoke. The other man cleared his throat; his face was concealed by a balaclava, but he had little muscle on him; he carried the standard pickaxe and a stone sword at his side. He seemed normal, until the top of his pack slipped open to reveal small red blocks inside.

"Sigmund, that's my full name. Demolitions, if you please," he snickered, tapping one of the blocks. It remained still, a monster waiting to be unleashed by a fiery force at any given moment. I shuddered, hoping that he was educated around explosives. The elevator creaked at the eighteenth level; the bottom was still barely visible; a small bridge of natural stone spread out from the perch the elevator rested on, supported by nothing.

"Our stop. We've been on this damn level for ages…" Wil muttered, hefting his pickaxe over his shoulder and tromping out of the cage. Jeff went next.

"Time for a little fun, just before mining," he laughed, pointing his rifle straight down to the bottom. It opened with a crack; the muzzle flare exuded heat and light. I looked down to the bottom of the ravine just in time to see a zombie collapse to the floor, dead as a doornail. Jeff cackled, pleased with his work. Wil wasn't.

"Don't waste your ammo. It's not cheap for anyone besides SEC," he warned, then continued across the footbridge. Jeff sneered at him malevolently, and then continued his walking, slinging the rifle across his shoulder and drawing his pick from his pack. I was third; we all gathered on the other ledge just as the third group came down in the elevator.

"Alright, you all know what to do, 'cept Nat here. Nat, you just follow ol' Sigmund here, gather some loot, and you're good." Wil began to jog off down the ledge; Jeff took out his pick and began cutting up stone along the ledge, cursing under his breath. A light tap came on my shoulder.

"This way," Sigmund spoke, his voice low. He popped his neck, and trudged down a darker passageway, narrower and tighter than most that I saw. I followed him grudgingly, hating the dank, tight tunnel with every step. Torches were not aplenty; I was tempted to put some up on the walls.

"Save them. Coal doesn't come very easily, especially for such a large group. We've got a passage up ahead to light." We walked for a short period until we came to a larger, more circular room. Sigmund pointed to a dark, wet tunnel leading upwards, with stone blocks to climb up.

"Up that way. Don't go farther than you can light safely," he said, then disappeared down a 2X1 tunnel to the left side, chopping out bits of stone to place torches as he went.

I was faced with the realization that I was all alone now. A cold bead of sweat dripped down my forehead; I brushed it away, and began heading up the passage. The rock was slippery and clammy; I had trouble retaining my foothold. It took nearly ten minutes before I reached a point where I could affix a torch to the wall and light up the track. Just as I pulled one out of my pack, a pitiful moan echoed between the hard stone walls. I doubled back, nearly slipping back down the side.

The zombie was only a torso; there was no blood where the other half had been; it was long bisected, dragging itself along the ground, moaning and reaching out for me. My stomach dropped into a pit; I began to panic. The slippery slope was behind me; the undead was before me. Without thinking any more, I ripped the sword out of its scabbard, cutting my hand in the process, and brought it down with full force upon the zombie. It died instantly, its head destroyed; two hunks of rotten flesh dropped on the ground, which I promptly kicked to the side. As my leg swung, it hit something solid; I recoiled in pain.

It wasn't the wall; it wasn't the zombie's corpse.

It was something thin, solid and black, standing right before me.

I slowly looked up to see the soulless, purple eyes staring back at me. I froze in place.

And so did it.


	4. The First Descent, Part II

The shadow creature stared at me. Its blank purple eyes remained fixated on mine; I was paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. A bead of sweat dripped into my eye; I closed them at the searing pain, and opened them in just enough time to deflect the monster's claw swipe.

The razor-sharp daggers swung at me; the eyes had gained a malevolent quality to them as it attempted to decapitate me. With almost superhuman speed, I ripped the sword out of its scabbard and deflected the claw to the side, without cutting off the limb. The force of the blow knocked the sword out of my reach and I fell back, losing my grip on the slippery cave floor and rolling back down the stones, feeling them punch into me. My wind was knocked completely out; the creature was still roaring in pain; I had sliced off one of the claws, and black smoke was flowing out, vanishing into thin air. My vision was becoming blurry after hitting so many rocks; summoning the most energy possible, I threw myself up using my arms and began racing for the 2X1 tunnel, hoping to block out the taller monster. Its roaring had stopped; I didn't dare look behind me. My vision was blacking out; I ran into the tunnel, to temporary safety. I collapsed.

It was only a few seconds; the shadow thing was gone. I was alone now; my thoughts raced towards only one objective: Sigmund. _I have to find him_, I thought. _He's the only one who'll know these tunnels._ Shaking off the pain, I rose up to face a tunnel at least fifty blocks long. It was lit up, luckily; holding my sword tightly, I advanced carefully down the tunnel. My ankle had been sprained in the fall down the shaft; the pain began to get to me, the adrenaline stemming off and the normalcy returning. I made my way all the way down the shaft; a large open room was at the end.

"Sigmund?" I whispered, keeping my voice low. My muscles tensed, sweat began to pour down my brow again; I felt fear, anxiety, hoping that that creature would not return. However, a single glint in the mostly-dark room drew my eye, and my attention.

_Gold!_

Eager to pick up the treasure while I was still safe, I rushed over to the vein of gold and began hacking away at it, bringing up four slabs of gold ore. I began to look around the room again; two veins of coal on the left wall, a vein of gravel and a smaller vein of iron; to the right, a warm light glowered up from the depth of a deep ravine that was deeper than it was long; at least twenty blocks down, a river of lava settled at the bottom. I stepped back a bit as a wave of heat rushed up and a bit of rock fell off, to its inevitable incineration below. Just as I stepped back, the sudden thumping sound of a bow alerted me to the presence of another. Another second, and an arrow whizzed right past my face, to embed itself in the left-side stone wall with a dull thunk. Returning my attention to the right wall, I saw in a tunnel to the other side a skeleton directly behind a stone block, aiming another arrow towards me. As I stepped back, trying to get out of the range of the skeleton, I heard a soft thunk behind me. I turned around instinctively, and fell immediately to my feet.

The shadow creature was back. It raised its arm, preparing to strike the final blow.

_This is it_, I thought. _The killing blow._

_I will die in this cave. My life is over._

_This is the end._

As I closed my eyes and prepared for the brutal end to come, I heard the twang of another arrow. I ducked my head down, ready for a strike to come at my head, and the arrow from the skeleton glanced off my pack and embedded itself in the other monster's leg. With a roar of pain, the black creature opened its mouth to reveal a horrid purple light that was its mouth, opened in its agony. The creature fell back as I flipped over on my back. In a split-second, the creature disappeared. In another split second, it was on the other side of the cave.

I didn't stay to watch what happened to the skeleton. As I rose up, the gravel wall broke apart and a horde of zombies crawled out, trying to climb over each other in their eagerness to tear me to pieces. Without another second's hesitation, I dashed for the stairs up to the tunnel, hacking at a zombie that had gotten ahead of its peers, and rushing up the stairs into the tunnel. I ran for my life; the shadow monster and the zombies were behind me. I exited out into the other chamber; in the tunnel where I had fallen, another horde of zombies were moaning out of the darkness, their soulless black eyes fixated on me. Terror gripped me, and force me to dash back the way I had come.

_Sigmund's dead! _I thought. He must've died a horrible death...I had not realized that the horror had just begun.

I exited at the main ravine. It was a war zone; on my ledge, zombies rushed down the side, cut down by arrows from two of the miners. I found Jeff up on the fourth level, his hunting rifle focused on the horde of zombies. He took accurate shots, but it was no help; the horde moved on slowly, ever so focused on the miners now retreating. One of them lashed out at the first miner, a musclebound grunt with long hair, and dragged him to the ground, screaming. I did not stay to see the aftermath; I kept on running, crossing the bridge to the elevator. The other bowman was following, but did not get far; a skeleton's arrow arced from the level above us, striking him straight in the back. He fell, his fate left to the zombie horde now running, lost in a bloodlust. I could only feel pity for the miners on the lower levels; as I threw the lever and let the elevator rise up above the bloodthirsty zombies, their arms outstretched and their faces frozen in agony forever.

Day One of mining in Delta Ravine?

Hell had just begun.


	5. Ascension

The elevator stopped at Jeff's level. I didn't know why. Desperately, I pushed the button again. The stone button budged, but the elevator did not. I began to panic, and forced the door open. I found myself on a wide ledge, level four.

The moans of the zombie horde penetrated the air. It was fresher up here, but that was of no help to me. Desperately, I rushed to Jeff, hoping to gather some miners and beat back the zombies should they find their way up to our level.

"Jeff!" I cried out, rushing to him. He fired off his hunting rifle, hitting a zombie trying to climb up the elevator beams below.

"Yeah? What's up?" he cried over the loud roar of zombie cries. He pretended as if it were a regular event, a swarm of the undead trying to tear us to pieces.

"Elevator's broken!"

His face went pale. His eyes left the sight at first, then returned. He had remained calm; I was struggling to maintain my grip on sanity at that moment, and he was taking the whole thing with a grain of salt. He was a veteran miner, after all.

"Ah...damnit...head into Bravo Tunnel. The Sec officer went down there earlier, but he hasn't come back up..." he trailed off, and fired again, taking down another zombie. In a rush of adrenaline, I shimmied down the thinner parts of the ledge, locating the sign that said Tunnel Bravo. Sidestepping the dirt block sitting there randomly, I headed down the well-lit tunnel. It descended deeper into the ground, and I could hear the sounds of zombies and clashing of swords from farther below. One lone zombie was making its way back up the natural stone staircase; I beheaded it cleanly with my sword, letting the body fall down the stairs as I ran down at my fastest pace. I exited into a large dirt chamber with random wooden Post & Lintel structures.

_Abandoned mineshaft_.

Zombies were crawling in the shaft, pushing the miners back. They kept coming, despite being slain by the three sword-armed miners every time they came up, a never-ending horde of the undead summoned from the depths of the earth. Heading into the fray, I slashed randomly around, hacking away at the walking dead as they redirected their attention to the new target I was just as hard to get at; my sword was sharp, despite being stone, and it was easily able to cut through the rotting flesh of the zombies, tossing rotten flesh all over the ground. I would not pick it up, any of it; the three miners took this cue to get out of the battle, retreating towards the tunnel I had come through. Cutting down the nearest zombie, I fled behind them, as the growing horde was supplemented by skeletons coming from the deeper parts of the cave. We did not stop; the moaning was only growing louder, and I could hear hissing from spiders.

"Shit, shit," one of the men groaned. He had an arrow in his gut, I realized; it was only lightly embedded, but the damage was done.

"Are there men still down there?" I asked as we ran back to the tunnel entrance. Two other miners ran past, back towards the elevator.

"No."

"Sec officer?"  
>"Dead," the unharmed miner replied. Blood and mud still smeared his face, despite his lack of open wounds. He was beginning to drag his comrade, who was losing blood fast.<p>

My hopes faltered; the elevator would not work. Jeff was still there; his rifle had run out, and he had picked up a bow from a fallen miner and was taking shots at the zombies climbing farther up the elevator shaft. They were almost at the top...there was no escape...

"Up there!"

The light stone dust on the ground was blown away. I heard a rapid whirring growing louder, and closer; looking up, I saw a small troop helicopter descending into the wide open fracture of the ravine, its blades easily missing the sides of the ravine. The continous crack of SMGs reverberated through the ravine; several of the zombies climbing the wooden beams fell in clouds of blood, crashing down on their friends below or falling to the shadowy depths of Delta.

"Helicopter, go!" I cried out, trying to act like a leader. I hadn't realized my pants had become wet; I had released urine in the fray, without noticing. A frail rope was tossed out to the ledge, and the harpoon on the end managed to get a grip on the side. Each of us climbed up onto the helicopter, avoiding the hails of SMG fire from the Sec troopers onboard. The last to get on was Jeff, who dropped his bow as the first zombie made it to the top of the elevator shaft and reached its arms out to us, its eyes following me as the chopper ascended back up into the morning sky above us.


	6. The Girl With the Green Eyes

The bar was silent that night. Not one of the miners spoke. Wil was quiet, his eyes glassy and saddened, as he drank up his third glass of ale. Jeff had no drinks; his hunting rifle, depleted of ammo, was slung over his shoulder, and he sat emptyhanded by the bar, his quiet eyes focused on a keg of winter amber ale behind the counter. Sigmund was dead, the only casualty on the team; other teams hadn't fared so well; Squads 2-4 all lost one man, and Squads 5-8 never made it out of the ravine alive. A blanket of dread, fear, and anxiety lay over New Jamestown, and it smothered me the most. I was sitting by Wil, and one of the miners I had encountered in the lower chamber the previous day, the ones I had "rescued" from the mineshaft.

"You did well today."

The gruff miner who had dragged his friend out spoke. He broke the silence, but no one else did. He was referring to me.

"Thanks. It wasn't easy...going back down..." I murmured, trying to sound more heroic than I really was.

"Many wouldn't have. Name's Tar...at least that's my nickname, my real name...well, it's long forgotten," he said sadly. He downed the last of his ale, and tapped his glass on the bar without a word to signal for more. The bartender didn't care; as long as he made money, these hardened miners could drink as much as they please.

"Tar...my name's Nat...I'm-"

"The newbie. Yeah, I'd say you gained your mining spurs today."

He pissed me off slightly. I had told no one about Trojan Pass, the experience of my lifetime-well, the worst one. I think I had won my spurs just by staying alive in that mess. But I said nothing; I was too shaken to talk.

We drank the night away; no regrets, no thoughts about tomorrow. Hangovers would be fixed by a long day in caves and the fresh air of the ocean. As miners, we don't worry about tomorrow. The present, and survival, is our only concern.

The next day, I awoke with a start. The hangover pressed on me heavily, less so than Wil, whom I heard vomiting in our simple toilet. So much for the toilet, I thought. I realized that I had been awoken by the sound of whirling rotors. .My bedroom had no window, and the lady and the pig picture didn't help. Rousing myself, my head throbbing from sleep and ale, I stumbled outside, ignoring my hungover roommate and opening the door.

Four helicopters flew above me, over the wooden blocs and markets lining the streets. They buzzed past the single tower of the city hall towards Delta Ravine; I could barely make out the silhouettes of crewmen aboard them. Sec soldiers; they were heading for the ravine that had been my bane the past day. They were followed by a larger gunship, one that was powered by downward-facing pulse engines that kept the gunship afloat. It was different; larger, louder (with a dragon-like roar emitting from the back engine), and a large pulse cannon mounted on the underside.

"InSec?..."

Jeff stepped out of the bloc opposite us, followed by one of the other miners I had brought from the mineshaft the previous day.

"InSec?" I asked. The gunship began roaring over the trees, its engines fading as it flew farther and farther away.

"Internal Security...they're the elite of the Sec elite. Black ops, you might say," Jeff said. Having forgone ale last night, he was in perfect condition, whereas his roommate was looking a bit peaked.

"Black ops? But what..." My thoughts returned to the shadow creature that had attacked me yesterday. The same question kept running through my head..._what the hell was that thing_?

"They're here for some reason...InSec doesn't just go out for Sunday drives around the colony," Jeff said. He spat on the ground, and turned in again. The other man followed; he looked as if he would be sickened. The air was helping my hangover; feeling slightly better, I decided to head to the colony park.

The clean air swept off the beach; a tall, three-masted ship was at anchor, unloading its cargo of lead bullets and clothing at the wooden pier. I sat on one of the park benches, watching a sheep not far away attempt to jump into a tree, apparently too bewildered to walk around the tree. I flung my hands back over the bench just as another person sat down on the bench. I turned around expecting another drunken miners trying to sweat out his hangover. Instead, I had to rub my eyes before I finally realized who was there.

We Minecraft people weren't blocky; we looked normal. But the girl next to me was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen; her long black hair flowed behind her head, careening down the side of the bench; her clothing stuck close to her body, but not tight enough to deign her a whore. She sat relaxed on the bench; she was of Asian descent, thin and beautiful, holding a chicken in her arms. The chicken was attempting to jump out of her arms. She turned and noticed me; I tried to pretend I didn't have a hangover.

"Ah...hey..." I tried, turning towards her.

She turned towards me, and smiled. It was almost too much for me; my relationships had been simple at best, limited to one-shot dates and speaking to girls at PE. This was the adult world; it was something entirely new for me.

"Hi!" she smiled, her hands on her lap. The chicken gladly left her lap, flying away and becoming stuck in a one-block deep hole.

"Uh..."

"The name's Song. Song Kim...from the Outer Provinces. Resettlement program, I suppose?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yeah...Outer Provinces too, the Farm Sector."

"Oh...that's neat! A miner, I suppose?" she asked.

"Yeah...how did you-"

"Your slight hangover," she laughed. She still smiled, indicating that it was just said jokingly. I smiled too, looking her straight in the eye.

"It's okay. I don't mind...as long as you don't fall over in the middle of our conversation," she smiled.

I laughed too, feeling more comfortable by the minute. She looked me right in my eyes; her bright green eyes, drowning in complex feelings, looked directly at me. My hangover seemed to dissipate almost immediately.

"Well, listen...I've gotta go...shall we meet again tomorrow? Same spot?"

"Sure...after I'm done tomorrow," I responded. I thought we had a little chemistry together...it felt...

...

...good. Something I'd never felt before.

That night, I came home to Wil and told him what had happened that morning in the park. He showed the slightest of interest.

"Don't get a relationship. You'll die before it goes anywhere," he muttered, biting a hunk of meat off a cooked porkchop.

"Hey, it's my life. My choices," I spat back. I was a little angry at how he was trying to force the reality of my dangerous life upon me.

"Whatever. Like you said." He was asleep in a few minutes. I relaxed in my own bed, dreaming of my encounter with Song tomorrow. And, deep within, hoping that one day our relationship would come to fruition.

The gunship arrived back past midnight, outside of the colony. Three of the ten InSec troops filed out, bloodied and battered. The leader stepped out; he surveyed the colony out of his gasmask. The other two, reduced to using clubs to fight back at the ravine, were exhausted, bloodied, and bruised. But they had gotten what they wanted. They knew what was down there.

The stronghold had been located. And the portal was definitely there.


	7. Of Love and War

3S HEADQUARTERS, DIAMOND CITY

0400 HOURS

The report had been confirmed, delivered and filed. Dozens of top analysts had examined it, thoroughly, including thousands of individual soundbytes and dozens of pieces of video evidence. They had mixed tapes, rewinded videos to confirm their worst fears. But it was true, despite their willingness to pretend that it simply did not exist.

The End Portal was there; in that one stronghold, at the bottom of the earth, the portal rested, waiting for one dumb-as-shit, slack-jawed miner to come upon it and activate it, and release hell upon earth. But it would be worse if the portal were to be left alone; 3S General Manager Luis Carotte had read the translation of the runes on the stronghold wall; what he had read chilled him to the bone. Sitting at the top of the central tower of 3S World HQ, GM Carotte's blood froze in his veins, rereading the translation on his computer. Picking up the phone with a shaking hand, Carotte dialed in the four-digit number slowly.

The number for InSec Headquarters. They had work to do.

NEW JAMESTOWN COLONY

THREE HOURS LATER

Mining shifts had been postponed indefinitely after InSec sightings and the massive attack the previous day in Delta. I had read the paper already; war between 3S and the powerful empire of Sania, across the Grande River, was threatening, with skirmishes occurring in the coal-mining towns along the river. But they were not my concerns; that was the land I had left, a land of strife and pain and poverty. The land I was in now was at peace, for the time being. And I had a date.

Wil woke up in the morning just as grumpy as earlier.

"I told ya about how relationships happen here...guess words don't worm their way through your thick skull that easily..." he grumbled. He had drank a lot last night as well; I could tell he was an alcoholic by choice, not simply by addiction.

"It's my choice, Wil. Please don't interfere," I asked plaintively. "I only want to try to live a normal life."

"None of that here," he mumbled, picking the canteen up again and eyeing the dry interior. A frown crossed his stubble-coated face.

"So you say. Have you ever even tried?"

He did not answer. I took it for a no, although I couldn't really be sure. Nevertheless, I stepped out of the house, finally hangover-free, and savored the fresh air. There were few other people outside; women walking to one of the markets, a few sullen Sec soldiers, their swords dragging or their SMGs slumped lazily over their shoulders. Tar stepped out of his bloc; he looked hungover too. I

wasn't really surprised.

"What're you out for?" he asked, rubbing his head and shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Just taking a walk. Out by the shore, try to get some alone time," I replied, keeping my true feelings a secret. I barely knew the guy, besides the fact that I had saved his life back in Delta.

"Don't stray far. There's rumors floating about...about InSec..." He said no more. Shaking his head and mumbling something, he stepped back inside, closing the door behind. I took off, half running and half walking, down the main thoroughfare, passing silent pairs of Sec officers. They did not try to stop me, or ask me where I was going, or for my Resettlement ID, not like in the old country or before. They were quiet; I thought I could detect a touch of fear in their eyes, as if even they feared the masked, faceless InSec.

The gate was opened, and the pulse gun was unattended. Making sure that no one was following me, I stepped outside of town and followed the dirt path down to the pines by the shore. Three benches sat by the coastline, unoccupied. Save the farthest one. She was there, waiting for me. I smiled.

"Oh! Hi!" She exclaimed after I had been standing there for a moment. She was smiling too, and motioned for me to sit down beside her on the bench. Gladly, I took a seat, my legs still aching after the mines two days ago.

"Sorry we had to cut short yesterday," I said, looking her straight in the eyes. "I had...other pertinent business." I expected her to be more upset about my leavetaking.

"That's okay. I understand completely, being a miner and all." She laughed, and laid her head against my shoulder. I was wearing short-sleeves, due to the mild weather; I could feel her soft, flowing hair spreading down by arm. I wanted so badly to put my arm around her, and pull her closer, but my conservative feelings suppressed my desires. I needed to hold back. After all, this was only the second time I had met with Song. We shared a moment of silence, together, alone.

"You have parents?" I asked her. That was a question I never should have asked. She drew herself back from me. I could see what I had done wrong; her eyes began to well up.

"They..."

"They're dead," she managed, starting to become choked up. I regretted asking the question in the first place. Without another thought, I finally put my arm around her, and pulled her closer. I apologized with my actions, not words.

"It's alright...you didn't mean any harm..." she relaxed against my muscular arms. The tears had left her eyes; we shared another moment of silence. It was a long time before she spoke again.

"Nat?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet.

"Yes?" I replied, looking her directly in her cool, green eyes.

"Do you want to do this again? Well...I mean..."

"Go out again? Start..." I trailed off, but she knew what I meant. "Yes, I do."

She smiled at me, and laid her head close to mine. Words were not necessary. It was a definite yes.

That night, I returned home, feeling elated after sitting with Song for almost an entire hour. Thoughts and feelings still flooded my head when I opened the door and found Wil speaking to a masked InSec soldier. Two red, glowing lights stood where his eyes should have been; the rest of him was masked, and he was suited up in heavy body armor, supplemented by carbon nanotubes and diamond ions. As soon as I stepped in, his eyes went to me. I could feel them penetrating my own eyes, looking deep into my soul.

"This is him?" the officer asked Wil, his voice muffled and heavy. It almost sounded robotic, very monotonal and raspy. Wil nodded, his face flushed with fear. I felt two heavy hands clasp my shoulders, pulling me back out the door.

"Take him. Get him to HQ," the officer ordered. I turned back around to the two InSec soldiers just in time to see the baton come crashing down on my head. Then darkness.

And silence. Nothing else.


	8. Stirring Shadows

I came to about an hour later. The harsh lights blinded me; I couldn't see a thing before my vision adjusted. When I could actually see what was before me, I could hardly believe it. The three InSec soldiers guarded the door, their masks glaring at me, the red lit eyes staring blankly, malevolently, directly at me. The room was stark, with bolted metal walls and a metal door that looked like it could survive a supercharged creeper. A table sat before me, a lonely, four-legged metal table. There were several chairs in the corner. The only light was the bulb hanging from the ceiling.

_Oh shit. An interrogation room_...

My thoughts began to race as my head pounded.

_What happened in the room..._

_Who are these guys...InSec?_

_Song...where is Song?_

The heavy metal door opened, and the InSec officer from earlier stepped in. He shut the door behind him, after motioning for the three soldiers to file out. They did so without word, without protest. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried as hard as possibly could to stare the officer straight in the eye. I expected a swift lashing out with his baton; instead, he pulled up a chair from the corner of the small, cramped room and sat opposite to me. He pulled several pictures out of his pack and laid them out on the table. I recognized the black creature immediately. But these were different pictures; they showed several of them, their claws covered with what looked like blood, advancing, trying to reach out of the photo and attack me.

"Do you recognize these?" the officer asked with his monotonal voice. I did not answer, simply out of the paralyzing fear these creatures brought back to me. I looked at each picture over again, noticing the bodies of InSec troopers laying on the floor of the ravine, their corpses shredded and torn, their blood pooling and flowing wildly.

"I asked you a question."

Again, I did not respond. I expected an attack again. But the InSec officer only took off his mask. I closed my eyes, expecting the worst from this mysterious machine before me.

But the features were human. The officer had a goatee, one that was well-trimmed and kept, and his eyes were a deep brown. His hair was closely buzz-cut, almost entirely shaved off; it was brown too, like his eyes. A deep scar reached from his jaw to his ear, red and white in different parts.

"Mr. Somers, you were a nobody up until this point. Until two days ago." He pointed to the pictures again. "We are calling these Endermen, for reasons you cannot know yet. We hope that this will all end quickly."

I was confused; relaxed a bit by the human face behind that machine mask, I spoke.

"What will end? Look, I'm just-"

"That's all bullshit. You're a miner, yes. But you saw these, and we have people who can confirm it. You spoke to other miners." He was right. Other miners had probably seen them, or seen me running from the shadow beasts they called Endermen. But what was so bad about them, besides their aggressive nature, their deadly attacks and their ability to somehow teleport?

"I'm sorry...I need to know more..."

The officer stared directly at me. He seemed conflicted; he wanted to tell me what all of this was, but another part of him was trying to keep silent. Finally, he gave in.

"Mr. Somers, what you saw in Delta Ravine...we believe it to be from another dimension. One that is trying to invade ours. We call it the End, back in our higher echelons." I wasn't sure how to follow, but I listened closely anyway. He was talking about an invasion from another dimension...like the Nether, or different?

"Is this like the Nether?" I ventured, trying to weed out more information.

"Not at all. Nether portals are far more stable...what happend at Trojan Pass was an anomaly. When that portal corrupted, all hell broke loose, yes, but if this portal corrupts, it'll do far more damage."

_Far more damage? Who is this guy?_

When the portal at Trojan Pass corrupted, all hell broke loose...literally. I tried not to remember that and listened to him again.

"Worse? How could it be worse? The town was-"

"We know very well what happened in Trojan Pass that night. Our troops were there...our troops died there," the InSec officer growled, his veins bulging with anger. But he relaxed.

"We need to open that portal. Runes written on the stronghold wall-"

"Wait..._there's a stronghold down there_?" I yelled, rising up from the chair. The officer pulled out a handgun-a blaze powder handgun, powered by artificial blaze powder made from redstone and magma cream. That pulse would tear right through my body. True, unadulterated blaze powder would disintegrate my very being and probably tear through the room's wall as well.

"Sit down, Mr. Somers. I had a feeling I'd have to explain a lot of shit tonight. Let me take out a smoke and give you what I know," he said. He pulled a cigar from the metal-coated pocket on his pants armor, lit it and sat back down, laying the handgun by his side. I grudgingly sat down.

"We discovered that yesterday...at the bottom of Delta, there is a huge stronghold. In the main room, which is basically a giant cavern reaching down to bedrock, there is a central platform where there is what we call an 'End Portal'. Runes on the stronghold walls told us how to open it, after they were translated. We tried to get to the portal, but the iron doors were enchanted...in other words, they would not budge. We couldn't open them no matter what. That's when the Endermen attacked." He pointed to the pictures again. He puffed on the cigar, drawing long, oxygen-filled breaths to relax.

"So...you could translate the runes?" I asked. He shook his head. "Experts at ancient runes. They knew them from other strongholds we found. They could easily translate these. Anyway, they told us how to open the portal, and also what would happen should the portal open itself."

"And?"

"Apparently, the Endermen, when killed, drop something called an 'Ender Pearl'...we're not sure what it is, as we haven't killed a single one of these monsters..."

"Can you get to the point?" I asked, annoyed. Asking that of any other Sec trooper on the streets was like asking for an instant beating. But this officer seemed more personal...he had human qualities, unlike the other InSec who were masked.

"Yes, I'm getting there...combining those pearls with unadulterated blaze powder creates 'Eyes of Ender', whatever those are...fitting twelve into the portal will open it, bringing us to the End..."

"Why open it?"

He hesitated...did he even know why?

"I wasn't told...my superiors, they know...but I don't." The InSec officer stopped there. There was a moment of silence.

"And what happens if the portal is not opened with the Eyes? Does it open itself?"

He said nothing else. Either he didn't know, or he wasn't told.

"We head down to Delta tomorrow. Life or death, we need to open those doors and access the portal...from there..."

He trailed off.

"You're done here. Sleep well. Tomorrow, its war against those shadows. And we're gonna win." He replaced his mask, and opened the door, punching in the code. He motioned for me to leave. As I left the room, he tapped me on the shoulder, and handed me something. The handgun.

"Use this well. Keep it concealed...bullets won't harm those things, but this will at least do some damage. Aim for the heart," he advised. I grasped the handgun closely, feeling the warmth from the artificial blaze powder in the power magazine, and stepped out into the cold night air outside of the Sec kiosk.

Tomorrow would decide my fate. Tomorrow was the day where I either lived, or died.


	9. The Second Descent

I couldn't sleep that night, knowing what was to happen the next day. I had been escorted to my bloc by two Sec troopers; I couldn't get to Song, couldn't tell her everything I wanted to. How much I wanted to be with her, what was happening tomorrow. We'd only had a single day together…fate was cruel to me, cruel indeed.

But I had to face it like a man. After a short sleep, I awoke in the morning. The news had slowly spread; the reactions were mixed. Wil woke up shouting; blinking my eyes, driving the blanket of sleep away, I rose out of bed, threw my robe on and stepped out of my bedroom to find him yelling at a Sec officer in the doorway, whose hand gripped his nightstick tensely and was trying to calm the massive miner.

"You stupid assholes don't know what awaits—"

"Wil. Calm down," I spoke softly, trying to break the tension. He turned to me, and then shrugged, muttering under his breath. He closed the door on the Sec, who appeared tense and nervous as well; I couldn't blame them.

"Damn lousy bastards…half of us die, and they want to go back into that deathtrap…"

I said nothing else. We all knew what awaited us down there; but none of us knew the kind of support we'd get today.

We both geared up for the occasion. Wil opened up a trapdoor in the floor and climbed down into the basement I never knew we had. I followed him down; the room was barely lit, just enough to keep monsters from spawning. On the wall hung two sets of iron armor, unscathed and shining even in the dim torchlight, and two iron swords hung up on the wall. I marveled at the weaponry; Wil grabbed the suit that fitted him and began strapping the cuirass on, motioning to the other set.

"It should fit you. Sounds like you're gonna need it," he grumbled, hastening to fasten the straps of his armor. I took the set off the wall, and had no trouble throwing everything on: the leggings, boots, cuirass and helm fit perfectly. I took the sword from the wall and headed back upstairs, packing some day-old porkchops, a few loaves of bread, my usual pickaxe, and all twenty of my torches. The gold bars sat at the bottom of the chest, along with the pistol I had been given; carefully, I slid it into my pack, hoping there would be no use for it and that the Sec would take care of everything.

We stepped outside to the hum of helicopters everywhere. At least three Sec helicopters were visible, loaded with men and weapons. One was down in the plaza, picking up a group of miners as well as food, arrows, ammo and torches. More flew in from the east; my guess was that they'd been preparing for this for a _long_ time.

"Helluva sight…guess it's their job now," Wil sighed, watching the helicopters go by. An InSec gunship, painted with red stripes against its blue coating, left all of the smaller helos in the dust, heading out west towards the pine forests beyond. The door to Bloc 5 opened up; Jeff stepped out, followed by Tar, who looked rather unhappy at being forced to suit up in tight leather and strap on a bow so early in the morning.

"Hullo there, gents!" Jeff called out over the whir of helicopter blades. "Time to put Old Hunter to good use!" he yelled, pointing to the hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. "Full clip!"

I smiled. _At least someone was going to have fun today_.

"And what about you, Tar?" I called out to the grungy man stepping out from behind Jeff. He peered out of the door and up at the helicopters leaving our vision.

"Goddamn them all…" was his only reply. He tried to force a smile, but none came.

"We've been ordered to the plaza, gather ourselves there and mount a chopper," Jeff said, walking over to us. Tar followed, and we all walked briskly as a group down the road, towards town hall and the main plaza. Another two helicopters went overhead, bearing more Sec troopers. I could've sworn I saw a minigun mounted on one of them; maybe it was just a hallucination, brought on by the many confusing thoughts of Song, zombies and the imminent hell that awaited me. The last two could be grouped together in one terrifying ordeal, I suppose.

We began to join the flow of other miners heading to the plaza. I searched the crowd of women and children desperately for Song, but to no avail. Her racial features would stand out amongst the mostly Caucasian population of the colony; but I couldn't find her, as much as I wanted to and a desperate as I was to say my (possibly) last goodbye. But no luck.

The helicopter beckoned us. A Sec officer motioned for our group of four to get on with all our gear. We all hopped into the bay of the chopper, scooting boxes and crates to the middle, and prepared for takeoff. In the last moment, my eyes rapidly scanned the growing crowd for her. Again, nothing. I could almost feel a tear rolling down my cheek, the pain inside amplified by the lifting motion of the helo as it took off from the cobblestones with a sudden rush of air. But I forced myself to suppress any other feelings. I had to be a man, be a miner. It was time to be that miner.

The airship lifted up over the forests, leaving the wooden blocs and cobble streets of New Jamestown behind. The pines whooshed below us, their needles thrown around by the bursts of air from our helicopter. Quickly, we found ourselves hovering over the scrubland leading up to Delta. It was only then that I realized how massive it was. It was nearly a half mile wide, the ravine's rocky ledges cutting across the sides jaggedly. I closed my eyes, trying not to look down.

"Jesus…they're launching a goddamn war…"

I heard Tar, and looked down. He was right.

"Mortars?" I cried in disbelief, barely audible above the chopper blades. Sec had set up mortars on the edge of the ravine, operated by crews of three. They were lobbing shells in a perfect parabola, just enough so that they would fall and explode at the very bottom of the ravine. Blue-clad Sec troopers marched out of the dozens of helicopters and gunships landed at the edge, taking the elevator down or rappelling. And some of those choppers descended into the ravine itself, steering clear of the edges and clearing the ledges for the infantry heading down.

"Christ, I don't believe it…" I was unable to finish my sentence before we suddenly lurched down into the ravine. I was filled with a sudden sinking feeling as we descended, level by level, faster than the rappelling troops. We came down to Level Six—and the helicopter came to a dead stop in the middle of the ravine. It edged over just enough for us to jump out and hit the ledge to the right side. We did so, all hitting the mark smoothly.

"Clear the tunnels for our soldiers, down to Level Seven! Take the wood from the mineshaft supports and make a platform for a gunship! Fire a flare when you're ready!" the pilot called out to us via megaphone as he lifted off. And there we were. Level Six. Just the four of us, against hundreds of zombies.

I pulled the pistol from my pack. We were going to need it.

The sounds of machine gun fire reverberated throughout the ravine. Every few seconds a shell would arc down, screaming as it flew past the sheer walls of the canyon, down to the mists below. I could see small dark shapes scurrying about below, hundreds of them, their moans and cries echoing even up here, twenty levels up. Every minute or so a shell would hit them directly, illuminating the bottom for a split second and sending body parts flying upward, sickening even at this distance. I returned my focus back to the narrow shaft before us, which was thankfully lit up. That didn't mean there weren't zombies, or worse, awaiting us.

"Where'd you get that nice tool?" Jeff asked, pointing to my pistol. He recognized it as blaze powder based.

"Long story. I was…interrogated last night, you could say…from my point of view, if an interrogation ends with me getting a blaze gun, it's all good." The other three laughed for a moment, trying to relieve the tension. A sudden explosion above rocked the ravine, and we were shaken for a moment. Three bodies tumbled down, followed by a mass of rock and stone. A mortar shell had hit the ledge, along with three unlucky Sec troopers.

"Someone didn't study their basic physics in highschool," Jeff sneered as the bodies of the hated Sec fell to the canyon floor. Just then, a moan echoed from the passage before us. I could hear the shuffling of feet even from here.

"Oh hell…"

"Time for a little fun," Jeff laughed, drawing the pickaxe. I held my blaze gun tightly, in favor of the sword, and advanced at the head of our little column, with Wil and his sword behind me. We had not gone more than thirty feet into the cramped passage when we reached a wider, less even passage that sloped down gently. Zombies, at least two dozen of them, were trying to crawl up the dozens of one-block slopes that led up to our position, above them. Without delay, Jeff started firing into their midst, aiming for the head, and Wil and Tar jumped down, slashing at the zombies with their advantageous positions. Every time a zombie reached up for one of them, they hacked its hand or head off, leaving it to collapse back onto its peers. I use my pistol wisely, trying to conserve the artificial powder inside. The gun had unprecedented power; each shot would take a zombie's head clean off or blow out its entire chest cavity, and cauterize the wound at the same time, with no blood splatter, unlike the hunting rifle. I used it casually, aiming for the head when possible. The glowing yellow bolts would hit their target dead on, and in a minute we had dealt with the entire horde.

"Phew…"

"Thirty down, a thousand more to go," I said, wiping sweat from my brow. Our short little victory celebration was punctuated by a creeper walking around the corner, seeming happy to find someone to blow up.

"Oh shit—"

"CREEPER!" Tar yelled out. Without hesitation, I spun around to face the four-legged beast and fired the pistol. I hit the head, evaporating it instantly and leaving the body to walk a short distance and then topple over, hitting the hard rock below. It's a good thing I didn't aim for the chest.

"Headshot…yeah…" Jeff said, congratulating me.

"Don't aim for the chest…that's where the gunpowder is. You know what happens then," Wil warned, exasperated. He was panting after slaying so many zombies with his sword, sweat pouring down his meaty forehead.

"We need to go," Tar urged. The shaft went on, intersecting several mineshafts along the way.

"We need…wood," Tar said again. He began to run down towards the mineshafts. We followed more cautiously, watching the rear for creeper ambushes.

We were almost to the closest mineshaft when gunfire rang out. Tar halted, and stepped back a little, right in front of a crevice in the stone wall. We were behind, at a four-way intersection with another man-made tunnel. In the abandoned mineshaft, two Sec troopers fell back, firing as they fled. An explosion shook the tunnel, shaking dust loose from the rock above. Blood splattered the visible mineshaft supports and walls; a creeper had ambushed them. Somebody didn't check their rear. I motioned to Tar to step into the crevice, just in case. Good thing too; as we disappeared around the corner, staying out of sight, I saw one of those Endermen walking by, taking its slow time stalking the mineshaft. It glanced left, and right, down the tunnel where Tar just was; had I not told him to get out of sight, he would have been dead by now. We waited for a tense minute; the thing made no footsteps, and I feared that it would ambush us as soon as we left cover. Thankfully, it never did; surrounded by the moans from zombie hordes, the twang of bows and the rattling gunfire of SMGs, we crept silently to the mineshaft, finishing off two zombies moving mindlessly around, and set to work on the supports.

"We need an axe," I whispered, keeping my voice low in spite of the explosions and gunfire. "Can't break this without one."

Tar pulled two sticks out of his backpack. He handed them to me.

"Get some stone. That's all we'll need."

I hacked away at the wall, taking two blocks of stone as Jeff pulled a crafting table from his pack, setting it on the ground. With the stone and sticks, we put together an axe and took down at least eight of the supports, enough to create a large enough landing pad. With our supplies now readied, we headed down the abandoned mineshaft, the way that the Enderman had gone, treading carefully out of fear of the creature.

Another horde, another pitched melee. I opted for the sword this time; slashing, hacking, cutting, slicing, I tried to avoid their grasping hands and gnashing teeth as I blasted through them, using the sharpened sword to tear flesh and bone. We disposed of this group in mere seconds, thanks to Wil and me charging. It was time to run; we ran down slopes, through abandoned mineshafts, all the way to the ledge of level seven. The mortar shells arced down to us here too; quickly, we put together the landing pad, while Jeff took potshots at zombies and the occasional skeleton above us. I saw more than a few Sec soldiers rappel down to their assigned ledges, only to have the rope break from the shockwave of explosions or rappel down into a creeper or a horde of zombies. They either fell to their death or were torn to pieces, both horrid ways to die in my opinion. I saw another Endermen too, using some sort of strange blue force field to absorb bullets from Sec troopers and proceed to shred them horribly, leaving blood to pour down the ledge in small waterfalls. I averted my eyes and laid down some of the wooden blocks I had, carefully crouching along the edges to avoid sharing the fate of the soldiers.

"The flare," Jeff said, pointing to the flare Wil had in his backpack. He reached in, and lit it by striking it on stone.

"Up and away," he threw it, letting it arc and then fall to the fog down below. In just a few moments, an InSec gunship descended on us, and the mortars stopped momentarily. The loud roar of the engine began drowning out the gunfire, and hundreds of zombies on the other side fell off trying to attack the intangible machine descending to our level. It was another sickening sight. I tried to think of Song, her hair, her eyes, her voice, but the only thought I could conjure was the shriek of falling zombies.

The bay doors to the gunship opened, revealing an InSec officer with the same badge that I had seen last night. Whoever he was, I was happy to see him and the three masked InSec elites inside.

"Hop in. We're going further down, Nat," the captain said. It was definitely the man from last night. I was relieved, and jumped into the gunship. No one noticed the creeper approaching us from the way we had come. It was on the landing pad when the co-pilot glanced over and dropped the F-bomb about five times as the creeper began to light up and did a running jump towards the gunship.

That's all I remembered. The shockwave hit me, and darkness took me.


	10. Crash Landing

The haze of darkness left suddenly. I gasped for air, forced awake by the cold water running around me. I realized that I was face down in one-block deep water; I could still drown if I didn't pull up. Summoning my strength, despite the haze and the feeling of broken bones, I rose out of the water to the sounds of a battlefield. And the sights and smells.

Our gunship lay broken on the floor of the ravine, its engines completely destroyed and burning, the cockpit broken. The co-pilot was dead, bleeding from multiple wounds on his chest; the pilot had stumbled out, holding his handgun close by. Slowly, one by one, bodies rose up out of the water, bloodied and dazed bodies. Wil, Tar and Jeff, as well as the InSec captain and two of his soldiers, rose up and staggered about, surveying our surroundings. We were at the very bottom; the creeper explosion had blown the gunship off the landing pad, probably destroying most of it in the process, and destroyed the hover engines, sending the craft tumbling to its destruction below. We passed out during the fall; otherwise we'd be dead at this point. I tried to move, but I stumbled as pain lanced up in my leg. It burned, seared; the bone was broken, for sure.

I fell back down into the water, and had to use my arms to pull myself back up on my one good leg. Everyone else was surveying the damage, stunned; they broke out of their stupor when other bodies began to rise back up: zombies, stunned by the explosion, began to crawl back up to life, out of the water. We were surrounded.

"Oh shit..."

"Jeff, another flare!" I called out to him. He tossed a flare, and I threw it with all my force towards a small ledge down the ravine a ways. It missed, and died in the water. The zombies were now all up, and were realizing that we were present. Suddenly, I saw the glint of purple up above.

The Enderman was right above us.

I raised my blaze gun, but it disappeared the moment I pulled the trigger. The yellow bolt of energy smacked the wall and burned in, but missed the Enderman. It teleported right before my eyes. The claw was retracted for a swipe. Suddenly, an awful hiss roared from its feet. The creature cried in pain, stepping back. The one-block layer of water below was burning it. The shadow teleported again, out of the watery deathtrap.

"Water...hurts them?" I cried, terrified. Smoke was still evaporating from the spot when the Endermen reported up to the ledge two stories above us, where the waterfall supplying the water was. There was a block of stone in his hands. He was going to close up the water supply.

"Shoot it, shoot it!" I yelled, firing at the thing's hand. It disintegrated immediately, but reformed right afterwards. The Enderman could regrow its body parts. I almost crapped my pants.

"This way, follow me!" The InSec captain cried, holstering his weapon. He began to run as the Enderman placed its stone block. The water was rapidly falling, and the ravine bottom would soon be dry. The captain ran past me, firing at zombies as he ran with his pulse rifle. I followed aimlessly, stumbling over stones in the bottom as the water dissipated, taking out zombies one by one with headshots from the blaze gun. So many of them stumbled and fell; an arrow bounced off my iron cuirass, and I shot the skeleton, dissolving its shiny skull instantly. The captain turned right at a harsh angle; I tried to follow, but slipped and fell in the water, sliding up towards a zombie crawling on the floor, its legs completely torn off. My boot landed right in the zombie's face, driving it backwards just as it reached out to grab my ankle. Realizing the imminent threat to my life, I leapt up onto my own two feet. Then the realization hit me:

The water was all gone.

I turned around, panicking, as the Enderman teleported to me, its job complete. The blaze gun would do no use; without another second thought, I drew the sword out of its scabbard and drove it straight into the Enderman right in front of me. The timing couldn't have been better; the sword drove home, and hundreds of black particles issued from the gaping wound in its chest. The creature did not bleed; however, it was in pain, stepping away from me, shrieking and swiping its razor-sharp claws wildly, trying to destroy its opponent before it died. But I stepped back, my boot landing hard on the legless zombie's skull, crushing it. I evaded the Enderman, until it fell back onto the floor, dead. The terrible light left its eyes; its chest opened up to reveal a dark purple orb inside.

An Ender Pearl?

The captain stooped down to pick up the shiny orb. It pulsated with a strange, alien light, and seemed to be pulled towards the captain's gloved hand. Or, rather, to the doorway that we had been headed to. The zombies were now closing in; an arrow flew right over my head, landing with a rough thud in the stone wall.

Never thought I'd see one of these

The captain seemed oblivious to the growing threat of the undead, which were beginning to pick up more and more from the darker areas of the ravine, as well as passages shooting off from the main canyon.

Captain, we need to go—

Before I can finish, I felt a hand grasp my leg. It was the other zombie, the one crawling beneath my feet. The captain, entranced by the pearl, mindlessly pulled his pulse rifle out and, holding it with one hand, shot the zombie, blasting its brains all over the floor. He seemed knowledgeable about our present situation.

We do. Hold this pearl, keep it safe, he said, handing the mysterious Ender Pearl to me. I spoke no more; it was my only desire to escape the deathtrap that was becoming deadlier by the minute. Without further ado, we slipped into the side passage, followed closely by the undead onslaught. I had no clue where we were going, or how long it would take us to get there. Or even if we'd ever return.

But I knew what I had to do now: survive. I followed the other InSec soldiers closely, trusting the mysterious, yet somewhat benevolent captain. The moans of the tide of zombies grew weaker and weaker, and we left the battlefield temporarily, our destination unknown.


	11. The Stronghold

The scenery had begun to change; instead of hard, cold stone, we were entering a danker, warmer area, marked by stone brick. A stronghold; it was the very first stronghold I had ever been in. Despite the humidity, I felt chilled to the bone; something was not right in this stronghold. It had to be the Endermen; even down here, nearly at bedrock, the sound of gunfire echoed, along with occasional explosions. It was a good sign that our troops were still alive and fighting, and hadn't abandoned us.

"There's a way up to the lowest mining level from down here," the captain spoke quietly. I could read the patch stitched to his arm; it read NEWELL. Captain Newell led the way, his pulse gun raised and ready. He had long since taken off his mask, exposing his human features; the soldiers under his command preferred to retain their masks, hiding their humanity and retaining the visage of the monsters they were.

Captain Newell held up a hand; we all stopped dead in our tracks. Before us, an Enderman came walking by. It apparently did not notice us; either it was dead set on something else, or it simply did not notice that we existed. Either way, it passed without event. I breathed a sigh of relief, loud enough for everyone to hear; Newell peered around the corner, and signaled for everyone to follow him again. I was the rearguard, the poor asshole assigned to guarding our rear. I followed last, behind one of the InSec soldiers, and went into the main hallway just in time to evade the claw swipe from behind. I turned around on instinct, whipping my sword out and driving it home in the same Enderman's gut. The sword had no mercy; it plowed straight through, driving the creature into agony as it roared in pain, clutching at the blade. Black smoke issued from the wound; I pulled the sword out, my arms shaking, and decapitated the stunned and injured Enderman, felling it. The head dissolved into smoke; the body lay there, still smoking, blocking the doorway. An Ender Pearl popped out from its chest; that was two I had. Ten more to go.

"Was that the same one?" Wil asked, poking his head out from behind the other InSec trooper towards the front. I wasn't sure, but it sure as hell seemed like it. The creature had passed us as if we never existed, then teleported behind us and attempted an ambush. Only my quick thinking and reflexes had saved me from sudden death; I was thankful for honed reflexes.

"So it passed us just to ambush us?"

"Lured us into a false sense of security," Newell replied, turning around to the group. "It wanted us to think it didn't notice us. Clearly, it knew we were here. We almost lost our man there."

Tar spat on the floor in disgust. I thought I could hear Jeff mutter "Sentient beings…that's more than a match for us." He was right. That thing was sentient; a zombie or a skeleton would never do that, not even a creeper. Lull us into a false sense of security, as Newell said, and then ambush us, having duped us completely. I was now more scared than ever of the Endermen; zombies were one thing. They had no sentient conscious, they only thought to kill. But these Endermen…they were different. I was eager to keep tight to our group, but I still held the post of rearguard. The others apparently didn't have the balls to take my job. I couldn't really blame them, not after what had just happened. But I was scared too…what about me?

We reached an iron door surrounded by tough bedrock. It appeared to be made blast-proof…save the iron door. It was a funnel, that's what it was; the door was the only place to get through, making it an excellent defense zone. What was on the other side though?

"Open your pack, Somers," the captain ordered, pointing to me. I came forward, glad to give my position as last in line to Tar, and opened my pack. There were C4 detonation charges in there, as well as a few blocks of TNT. I held the pack wide open for Newell as he pulled out the C4.

"Why not use the TNT?" I asked, puzzled. TNT would do far more damage to that iron door than C4.

"Contained explosion," Newell muttered, reaching deep into my pack. "TNT's far less predictable. I'd rather not have my face sheared clean off by an explosion today. Not after all I've been through." Newell took four separate charges of C4, and began sticking them to the door.

"Won't this attract the horde?" Wil asked. Newell stopped for a moment; he hadn't considered that. Neither had any of us; I now realized the predicament we had fallen in to. Newell pulled out a comms radio from his belt, and turned it on.

"Delta Zulu, Delta Zulu…do you copy?" he talked into the radio. A crackling buzz came through…the sound of static. Then, a voice began to echo through.

"This…Delta Zulu, come…Whiskey, do you copy? This is Delta Zulu—"

"Delta Zulu, I copy. What's the status up there, Hotel Whiskey?" I never understood military code, but this must've been HQ up on top of the ravine. Lucky bastards didn't have a clue as to what we were going through down here in this pit. Half of them would crap their pants at first sight of a zombie.

"Um…good news and bad news. First of all, where the hell are you guys? We lost your coordinates—"

"Bottom of the ravine. Our transport got hit by a creeper blast, and we plummeted. Pilots are dead, we're in the stronghold." I heard the receiver at the other end swear loudly. "At the bottom? Are you serious? How are you still—"

"Forget about that," Newell retorted, spitting into the radio. "Tell me the status first."

"Almost all good…we lost contact with your and Squads Echo and Charlie, they went down into the lower levels first…but Alpha and Mike are down there, we've got the hordes flowing back into the caves, sir."

"Good," Newell said. The radio was losing connection. "We're in the stronghold. You know the dropoff on the last level?" There was a pause.

"The one right over the portal? Yeah, what about it? You want guys to get you out of there?"

"What's the closest squad?" Newell asked, having to yell into the radio now. I was afraid another Enderman would hear us, but the rear was none of my concern now. My concern was now getting out of this deathtrap.

"Mike's closest…I think T-5 minutes from the opening…they can drop a ladder down in there, if you can get in…but what about the doors?"

"C4," was Newell's only response. A long pause on the other end; it was so silent; we could hear distant gunfire again. Only it was growing closer.

"Christ…Captain, you know what that'll bring on you…"

"The zombies, yes…they react to sound, but we'll only have to secure the one entry, and its five minutes until the ladder's dropped—"

"The Endermen are leading them, sir. They're actually forcing the zombies to retreat. They'll sure as hell be with the zombies when they come. They're heading for your position right now."

I could see Newell's jaw drop. I hadn't realized it either…the Endermen were leading the zombies. That's why they had been so coordinated today. The hordes trapping squads…the creeper strategically leaping at our gunship…the Endermen closing up the water source…they were heading the horde. They'd be with the zombies who would for sure be attracted to the sound of C4. It was either find our way through the endless maze of the stronghold up to the bottom level, or risk this.

"Get Mike ready. We're going into the Central Chamber."

I gripped my blaze pistol tightly. Half a clip…would that last five minutes? That would be put to the test soon enough, as Newell finished placing his C4 and pulled out the detonator…


	12. Five Minutes in Hell

Every moment seemed like an hour, waiting for the explosion to come. It was almost insubstantial, a small firecracker of sorts, knocking the iron door off its hinges and rattling the hallway slightly. No button, no lever needed; the small amount of C4 explosive destroyed the stronghold door. But the noise, that was the substantial part of it; the C4 went off like a thousand gunshots, the cracking and snapping of the iron and the bang of the explosives as they set off, filling the stone brick hall with smoke. That was what triggered the horde. Almost instantly after the explosion went off, a stomach-turning screech rent the air, the collateral cry of a thousand bloodthirsty undead who were enraptured by the sudden noise that echoed throughout their dark chambers. With them were sure to follow the Endermen, who appeared to be leading the horde onwards; as soon as the smoke cleared, we rushed through where the door had once been. The stone brick on the sides was charred, but hardly damaged, unlike the effect a TNT explosion would have had.

The chamber was a vast space of a vault; the bottom simply fell into the void, a black, heaving mass below that absorbed all light and sound that slipped into it. A small, two by one stone brick walkway on our side led to the platform in the center of the vault, which connected to four other walkways and four other doors at each of the cardinal directions, all leading to different parts of the stronghold. This was the center; this was the nexus of the stronghold. The portal lay at the center, a sleeping giant, unmoving, waiting to be awakened.

"That's the portal?" I asked, moving ever so cautiously towards it. Every single block of it had a slot that seemed to fit a spherical object…something like the pearls I now possessed.

"That's it. We've seen it, from up there…" Newell motioned to the small 1X1 hole in the ceiling about ten blocks above. "But we've never really been this close. Enough study to know how it works, I think…"

"Do these fit in there?" I asked him, pulling out one of the pearls. It seemed to pulsate with a growing light, as if realizing that home wasn't far away, within reach.

"It's more complicated than that, I'm afraid. It takes—"

His answer was drowned out by the cries of zombies, hungry for flesh. A sudden wind blew through the open doorway to us, carrying the stink and the moan. The horde wasn't very far away; they'd be closing in from all sides, including the closed doors. This left us only one passage to be concerned with.

"They'll only be coming in from just that one passage."

"What about the other doors?" one of the soldiers asked. His voice was monotonic, almost robotic.

"They won't be able to break through the iron doors," Newell responded. I could hear shambling now. The undead were in that hallway, trying to reach us.

"When's Mike Squad getting here?" the other soldier asked.

The captain did not respond. Five minutes? It seemed like nothing…but we were up against the undead and worse. Five minutes would be a lifetime in hell. I turned off the safety on the blaze gun I held; I wouldn't need it.

The first zombie shambled around the corner. No one shot; everyone was too concerned about saving their ammo. Finally, one of the soldiers grew some balls and fired his pulse gun directly into the zombie's head, destroying the brain in one critical shot, as well as cauterizing the wound. To our dismay, the creature fell over the side, falling off into the void; it wouldn't be blocking the doorway against the other zombies who would certainly follow it. More came around the corner, their glowing eyes lit with bloodlust and anger, their outstretched, rotting arms grasping for us, trying to be the first ones to bite into flesh. No one preserved their ammo here; it was a free for all. I fired my blaze gun once, knowing I had the shot straight into the zombie's forehead. It toppled over without a sound; its cranium instantly destroyed, incinerated by the flame, and fell off the narrow walkway with so many of its friends, down to the void below.

The horde kept on coming; to my dismay, the bodies didn't pile up as they should. The zombies were actively working to push them off as well as get to us, ensuring that they wouldn't be snagged in the corpses of their kindred. Instead, they were actually getting closer, despite the accuracy of our shooting. I could hear banging at the other doors; I could hear moans, more of them, the shrieks and cries, and out of my peripheries could see arms reaching through the doors, pushing on them. Despite Newell's assurance that the iron doors wouldn't budge, I was beginning to fear that they would crack.

At that very moment, an Enderman teleported right in front of me. I saw the claw swipe before I really even knew what was happening, and ducked down. The claw would've decapitated me; instead, it decapitated the InSec soldier behind me, tearing off his masked head in one clean swipe. I was stunned momentarily; that could've been me. For a moment, I felt pity for the man who died instead of me, whom I had allowed to die. He most likely took part in his share of atrocities, for sure, but still…to see another human being die before my eyes, when it should've been me…

The Enderman fell next, hit square in the head by three pulse blasts. Even a shadow could not withstand pure energy; it collapsed, its essence destroyed, and fell directly on top of me. The thing weighed at least four hundred pounds, despite its thin, wiry and muscular form; I couldn't breathe with the dead monstrosity on top of me, and I struggled against the weight of the creature to throw it off the side, down to the yawning void below. Blue bolts of light flew in my vision, as the pulse blasts continued to hit the zombies. Arrows joined them, too; and the cracking of Jeff's hunting rifle resounded in my ears, adding to the shrieks of the zombies and the muffled thumps of the pulse guns. I didn't know how long it had been; I wasn't able to keep track of time. My vision was beginning to blur, due to the crushing weight.

Finally, summoning all my strength, and with the help of adrenaline, I heaved the dead Enderman off of me, throwing the crumpled body over the side. I nearly threw myself over, as my momentum carried me up with the corpse. Only the weight of the stone in my pack kept me from following it down. The zombies were nearly on top of me as well, despite the constant fire from the pulse guns. My blaze gun worked wonders again; yanking it from its holster, I fired at the nearest zombie, incinerating its head, and continued to fire into the mass. I didn't care where the bolts hit; I knew that they hit, I could hear the searing of flesh and the cries of the injured undead. As long as they hit their targets, it was enough for me.

A crash on the other side of the room drew all eyes there; the door was broken open. The iron door that Newell had promised would stay strong. Two creepers came into the door, with another horde of zombies piling in behind them. I could see another Enderman behind them, jostling for position, unable to teleport due to the mass of bodies. I couldn't get a straight shot at the creepers, but my attention was fixed on the green bodies struggling to get to us. One of them was hit by an arrow right in the chest, and knocked over the side. The other managed to reach us; with a roar, Wil drew his sword, throwing his bow down onto the ground with a clatter, and slashed the creeper, knocking it backwards against the surging zombies. I was sickened by the sight of green and black blood; driven into a mad frenzy by the killing and the horror, I drew my own sword and faced my own horde, slashing maniacally, whipped into a killing frenzy. Black blood spewed everywhere, and the bodies of zombies fell into the void one after another. They met their end at the point of my sword, hacking off limbs and heads without a care. My gun was knocked off the walkway in the melee; I barely noticed. I also barely noticed the ladder descending down to the platform and four Sec troopers descending with it, armed with swords and SMGs. They fired randomly as the third iron door broke, and the hinges on the fourth began to creak menacingly. I pushed one of them with a sword aside, almost knocking him off the platform, and grabbed one of the ladder rungs, rushing up the ladder. I drowned out the gunfire and shrieks from below. All I knew was that humans followed me up, and that there were humans above me, their hands reaching out, trying to pull me up…


	13. The End of the Beginning

I think I was half conscious by the time they hoisted me up out of that one-block hole and into the bottom passage. We were at the bottom of the ravine, sure; but it was a hell of a lot better than being in the stronghold. One last glance down there was enough for me; the horde of zombies surged, raging in the empty, dead portal, trying to crawl atop one another and reach for the hole. They never could've done it; it was ten blocks above their heads, and the ladder had been retracted in the nick of time. It took me a few seconds to realize where I was, who I was with, and the situation I was still in.

It took me a second to realize that I was still in mortal danger. The tunnel resounded with the shrieks of zombies and the ear-splitting din of machine gun fire. I saw dead men everywhere, a sickening sight; turn right, mauled bodies and bloody pools. Turn left, piles of bones and half eaten corpses, some still barely moving. I had to close my eyes entirely to avert them from the horrific sight. But a hand roused me, a heavy tap on my chest.

"Get up, get up, we've got to get moving—"

I recognized Wil's voice. It sounded desperate, and he was panting heavily. I opened my eyes, breathing in deep. He didn't just tap my chest. I felt a surge of adrenaline in my body, flowing freely through my veins, coursing through my arteries, and heard the crack of plastic as his sweaty hand tossed a syringe to the side. The adrenaline was almost instant; it kicked in. I felt more alive, more aware, and realized that we were in deep shit.

"How'd we get out—"

"Mike Squad's here, they're trying to get us out of here," Wil panted, alarmed. He held his bloody stone sword high, raised, poised to strike any walker that came his way.

"Alright…alright—where's my—"

My pistol was gone. The blaze pistol I had, the one fueled by the artificial blaze powder, was gone. It had fallen off the walkway during the scuffle down in the portal room. I cursed my stupidity and desperately looked around for a weapon. I still had my sword, but I preferred to have a ranged weapon to take out threats sooner rather than later. A crash behind me caught my attention; the gravel wall had collapsed, revealing a horde of zombies led by an Enderman. SMG rounds flew into the heads of the undead, spraying fountains of red mist and coating the stone walls with a thin layer of sticky blood. The Enderman, however, was unaffected by the bullets. They were simply absorbed into a fine, watery mist right in front of his eyes, and he raced at inhuman speeds towards the three Mike Squad soldiers now backing away and dropping their weapons. I watched on in horror for the first one, who was brutally disemboweled within two seconds by the razor-sharp claws of the Enderman. The second Sec soldier rammed the Enderman with his SMG, driving the butt home into the creature's forehead. It was affected by the strike, and fell backwards, dazed but certainly not injured badly. I drew my sword, the adrenaline raging in my body, and drove the iron tip home into the shadow's chest, driving the point through the back and out the front. There was no roar of pain, no final shriek of death; its supernatural life was cut off immediately, and it crumpled to the ground, the purple light leaving its eyes as the black mass fell onto the bloody corpse of the first Sec soldier. The second said not a word more, but ran down the left side of the tunnel, after his comrades, who were trying to shoot zombies from three different directions. The third man had no time to react; more hands from the collapsed gravel grabbed him, pulling the screaming soldier back towards the zombies. I left before the bites could be delivered, before the flesh and muscles on his shoulders could be eaten off him. The juice forced me to focus on my only goal: getting out alive.

I picked up the SMG from the first man, although it was covered in blood, and ran off, behind Wil, who was just as eager as me to leave the damned ravine. I saw Tar in the crowd of Sec and InSec at the abandoned mineshaft junction ahead, holing up at the center chest. From three sides came zombies and skeletons, eager for flesh and blood. Already the human dead were piling up; I saw three Sec troopers dead, and one InSec elite was wounded, laying in the center of the square, shaking and coughing. Blood trickled from a hole in his bulletproof vest; a broken arrow lay by his side. This was our predicament as the zombies began to emerge from the gravel behind us.

"Captain Newell, we've got another side to cover!" I cried, glancing behind me at the shambling undead, their clothes torn and their feet bloody. I recognized Captain Newell in the gunfire; he was looking around desperately as well; he couldn't spare any soldiers, as they were engaged on all three sides. No one noticed Wil pull a grenade from his pack and pull the pin off it.

"What the—"

"NO!" I cried, as the pin hit the ground. He tossed it at the tunnel ahead of us, towards the swarming zombies. Every second was an hour; I hit the ground far too hard, feeling the wind knocked out of me as I went down; the explosion seemed almost cataclysmic, shaking the very foundations of the earth around us. The wooden support beams creaked; the horde stopped for a moment, dazed and stunned by the shockwave from the grenade. It had not been a frag.

"Oh Christ…"

"DUMB SHIT!" Newell yelled as his troops began to move for the clear pass, stumbling over charred and fragmented corpses. Newell directed his anger at Wil, not me. I had difficulty getting back up; my head was spinning, the adrenaline was running out.

"That was a concussion grenade! Now the whole damn ravine's gonna be on us!" I heard as they ran away. I was left, along with the InSec man who had been wounded. I felt a hand grab my foot; try to pull me back into the gaping maw of the darkness.

NO.

HELL NO.

I would not go back there. I made a promise to myself, before falling into this wretched pit, that I would make it back to the top, back to sunlight. Back to Song, who was in the village, waiting for me to return. I kicked the zombie in the face with my boot, and the foot went right through, smashing through rotten flesh and bone with a sickening crunch. As if on impulse, the hand let go immediately, and the body toppled over. I realized time was almost out; the zombies were approaching from the other tunnels. Against my better judgment, I grabbed the InSec soldier by his lapel and dragged him along the battered stone floor, just as a hand reached out to grab him. He began to groan; it would've been better for him to stay unconscious, but I had no say in the matter.

I was unable to keep up with the others, who were fleeing for their lives. I saw troopers from other squads on the bottom level retreating at a furious pace, some firing their weapons off and running, others being dragged to their deaths by howling automatons, their claws lashing out and their teeth gnashing. The stairs seemed like a million miles away, the distance to the moon; but finally, we reached them. The injured InSec soldier was dying; I knew the light was fading from his eyes, masked as they were behind that hideous, intimidating war-mask with the one eye-slit and armored jaw, but that he was only human too, and needed to be saved. I dropped him at the foot of the stairs and wildly fired the SMG into the horde of zombies behind me, cutting at least a dozen down before the clip was empty. I was out of ammo; dry, I cursed and threw the weapon down on the floor with a clatter. I picked the wounded man back up, who was now thrashing, and threw him over my shoulder, punching a creeper back, where he fell into the surging mass.

I had never felt so terrified in my life, ever. The adrenaline was gone; fear and the racing pulse had kicked in. A body lay on the stairs; I almost tripped over the man who had committed suicide, the magnum revolver still in his hand. The stairs seemed endless as well; the bulk of the man's body plus my racing heartbeat made every moment count, and it seemed like an hour before I was at level 17. There was an elevator on this level.

Right in front of me, the elevator presented my best option. I almost cried with joy; but it was leaving. An arrow whizzed past my face, dropping off into the gloom. With all the strength I could muster after my ordeal down in the stronghold, I dashed for the elevator, encouraged by the screams of zombies and the clanking of bones behind me and the encouragements of the Sec soldiers inside the elevator, urging me to hurry and carry their wounded comrade in. The last second was like an hour; I leapt, in a surge of adrenaline, into the open carriage, just as the hand from the stairwell reached out for me. I half threw, half dropped the wounded man into the Sec soldier's arms, and collapsed onto the wooden floor of the elevator.

I was free. I was safe.

I was alive.


	14. Waking Shadows

Pope Chrysanthos V entered the balcony to a roaring applause and ripple of exultant cheers from the mass below. The plaza of the Cathedral of the Holy Pickaxe was filled to the brim with a nebulous mix of people. Some of them were pilgrims, who had true faith and only wanted to fulfill the wishes of their sanctified pickaxe and its guardian, the Pope himself. There were the zealots, those who were overbearing and dangerous; the soldiers of fortune, the poor, the amorous adventurers, the professional soldiers, the curious commoners, and the greedy barons. They had all gathered in the plaza to hear the proclamation of their beloved—or not so beloved—Pope.

As Chrysanthos held out his hands, a sinking feeling began to rise within him, growing stronger by the moment. He was being forced to do this; against his will, the most powerful man in all religion was about to do something he knew he would regret for the rest of his life.

"Settle, settle my children," the Pope spoke through the microphone, and the crowd hushed. "We are gathered here today in reverence of the pickaxe that has stood in its chamber for a thousand years, blessed by forces we cannot understand. Today, we are here to do the bidding of those forces, who speak through the holy tool." Another chorus of shouts and applause; they would do anything for their religion. Chrysanthos swallowed a lump in his throat and continued.

"Those forces have commanded us to destroy the infidels, the Sanians—"

There was no more to be said. The crowd broke into an uproar, their religious fervor spurring their growing bloodlust. A tear, a single tear, flowed down Chrysanthos' cheek, a tear that stemmed from his lies and the bloodbath he had just perpetrated. What would the creators do? How would they feel? He felt weak, helpless, and almost collapsed onto his knees. He left the balcony immediately; the crowd could do what they wanted. They'd organize crusades, blow themselves up in Sanian towns and stores. All he knew was that those crosshairs on the far skyscraper had never left him, not for one second. Not until the job was done.

I felt elated to be out of that deathtrap. Tears and sweat streamed down my face as I nearly cried for joy. The other miners were simply too exhausted to say anything; as we ascended out of the ravine, the engines of the InSec gunship roaring, they sat in bitter silence, still holding their weapons tightly, their clothes and packs splattered with blood and water. It'd been a long day, but I'd survived it. I told myself that I would only survive, and I had done just that. The Ender Pearls felt heavy in the pack; almost as if they were drawn to the portal down there, just slightly, only a small amount of attraction.

"Damn…never thought I'd see a rookie miner fight like that," Tar sputtered, still trying to catch his breath. We all managed to end up on the same gunship, headed back to New Jamestown.

"Earned my spurs yet?" I asked him, trying to bring light to a dark situation. He actually smiled.

"Hell yeah."

Another minute, and we touched down in the New Jamestown square. We were the first gunship back; almost every other citizen in New Jamestown turned out for our arrival, a pulsating mass of women, children and other men down in the square, anxiously but quietly awaiting the drop ramp to open. They were anxious; who'd be alive? Who'd be missing, or back in the ravine? I felt my gut knot up in pity for those who had lost loved ones back in the ravine. But there was only one person I wanted to see after being spattered with about ten gallons of blood. I couldn't find her in the crowd, but I knew she'd be there. Somewhere.

The drop ramp opened, and we marched out as the victors. We stood proud and tall for that moment, our bloody swords and pickaxes by our sides, our faces stained with sweat and blood, our clothes filthy and ragged. But we stood tall, proud to be alive and well. The civilians swarmed us, loved ones and others, just glad to see a living miner. I felt a hand tug on my shirtsleeve, the part that wasn't stained. I turned around and was enveloped in her hug, and felt her warm body press against mine, her head cuddled deep against my breast. I wrapped my arms around Song like I hadn't seen her in years; we shared a moment, swallowed by the crowd, our feeling of mutual passion and love tuning everything else out. My senses almost failed me; did she kiss me? I felt something warm on my lips; but did she really? My senses had been overloaded that day, in addition to nearly being torn apart by zombies on multiple occasions, and I had difficulty figuring everything out. But it didn't matter; I was home free, with my girl in my arms, my allies still standing, and Delta behind me.

We broke off after what seemed like ages. She still held my hands, and smiled up at me. Words could not help our relationship at all; our reunion was beyond words, only in the realm of pure actions. Her brown eyes gazed longingly at me, her beautiful Asian complexion, and she gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before stepping back.

"Did that pass for a welcome back?" she asked jokingly. She smiled again.

"I think that would pass," I laughed. I was about to receive her again when someone whistled behind me. I turned around on the spot to see Captain Newell standing beside the gunship. The crowd was dispersing, carrying Tar, Wil and Jeff away with it; we were the only ones left standing.

"Hate to break you two up—"

I took this to mean he had something else to tell me. I was somewhat disgusted, but she took me by the arms and kissed me thoroughly on the lips. I had no choice but to follow suit.

"Talk to him now. Come over to my house later tonight." She spoke softly, ensuring that Newell couldn't hear it. She smiled again, then skipped off joyfully, following the crowd and calling out to another woman. I turned around to face Newell, who was standing alone, lighting a cigarette. Night was falling; the moon was rising.

"Got some bad news for you, Somers. _Real_ bad news." Newell seemed anxious as well; he took a moment before puffing on the cigarette, letting the fumes spiral into the clear night air.

"Captain, I apologize, but I think you no longer require—"

"_I _no longer require your services, Somers. If it were up to me, I'd let you go—"

"Up to you? What the hell do you mean, up to you? You're InSec, can't you just sign me off?" I cried in despair. I had no clue where he was going, but it would never be good.

"That's not my decision, Somers," Newell spoke, his voice growing harder. "This is beyond me. My administrators…they're the ones who have interest in you. And it gets worse."

"Enlighten me," I snapped, angered. We were definitely alone now. I could tell Newell had his grip on his blaze pistol, despite trying to keep his posture relaxed and confident.

"There's something about that portal…it's beyond me, but…listen, my administrator called me yesterday. He sounded very urgent, very upset…a rarity for him, he's—"

"I know who he is," I snapped. InSec Administrator Lance Kholer was infamous for his brutality and iron taxes across the Outer Lands.

"He never shows any emotion. He called me, very upset…he said that we must get into that portal, and slay a something-or-other, something called an Enderdragon…but he never gets that upset. I fear it may be something more…"

I had nothing to say. I stood there, my fists curled, my eyes locked on Newell. I could hear the whirling blades of a helicopter in the distance, growing closer; others were returning.

"I have a choice—"

"No you don't," Newell affirmed. "If you reject your assignment, they will hunt you down, and they will kill you…and your loved ones…" Newell glanced to the street the crowd had disappeared down.

_Song. They'd kill her too. InSec would kill her along with everyone I know._

The bastards had me. For her sake, I would do it. For her sake, I would be in.

"Consider it done." I spoke, my fists unclenching. Newell relaxed as well.

"Very well then. Welcome to InSec."

Pope Chrysanthos V stood before 3S CEO James LeBlanc, his hands held behind his back. His three prime cardinals stood behind him, at attention as well, watching LeBlanc suspiciously.

"Are they in?"

"They are stirred up. I'm sure you've started a whole mess of jihads and crusades—"

"That doesn't matter. It's against Sania, and for all we care, they're not worthy of even a warhead. For now, your job is done. Thank you, Holy Father." LeBlanc fired two shots into the Pope's head, whipping the 9 mm handgun out with lightning fast speed. The old man was dead instantly; the cardinals were too shocked to move. It took one shot each for them to fall, all stunned by LeBlanc's assassination.

"Clean up the blood, and remove the bodies," LeBlanc ordered the two zombie pigmen behind him. The pigmen, armed in hellish Soul armor and wearing minotaur-like masks, proceeded to remove the corpses and lick up the blood, grunting. He turned to the other pigman, the one in the king's armor and wearing the crown of bloody spikes. Its face was hideous, a rotten pigman's visage, with a long scar down the untouched side.

"I'm afraid some units in our company have…revealed some unwanted info to some certain groups. You are to head to New Jamestown to wipe out these…certain groups. No survivors. Do I make myself clear?" The pigman lord grunted. LeBlanc smiled at the creature; he considered it inferior, cannon fodder compared to what he could command and unleash in just a few weeks.

"Head out, immediately. There are some loose ends to tie up here in Diamond City…"


	15. Set in Stone

**To all of you who have read the entire story so far, thanks for reading! Please enjoy, and remember that constructive criticism, praise or both are always welcome!**

3S CEO James LeBlanc sat in his office swivel chair, spinning around and around in little circles. He finally stopped to face InSec administrator Lance Kholer, who had a 9mm in hand. That stone-hard face still showed no emotion, even at this critical moment. LeBlanc almost smiled at Kholer's hopeless situation, but kept his features calm and smooth as well. He could barely see the other man in the dark room.

"Mr. Kholer? Something you'd like to discuss?" the CEO asked, raising an eyebrow.

The 9mm was leveled at LeBlanc's head. A bead of sweat ran down Kholer's face.

"How could you? How could you betray the very organization that swore loyalty to you alone?" Kholer spoke, his deep, gravelly voice echoing off the walls. His very character was intimidating; at 6'4", Kholer had an eyepatch, the end result of an earlier clash with Sanian brigands, and wore the traditional armor of InSec, without the mask. He wanted to look his opponent in the eye before death.

"You're a hardened man, Mr. Kholer, you know how politics work—"

"HOW COULD YOU!" Kholer shouted. He moved the gun right up to LeBlanc's forehead. He began to sweat; he actually thought Kholer would pull the trigger right then, right there. But that was a quick thought; LeBlanc knew his most trusted commander would never pull the trigger on the man he'd sworn loyalty to.

"We all have our reasons—"

"I swore to protect your mining company, to serve 3S…" Kholer said with gritted teeth. "And this is what I am rewarded with? Pope Chrysanthos, Senator Prime Lucius, your own general manager…when the nation finds out about this—"

The hellish blade drove right through the armor, into the back and out the front. Kholer gasped, his sentence unfinished; he raised his face to heaven, his mouth agape in a silent scream, blood dripping off the point of the sword. The blade was torn out of the wound; Kholer fell to the ground, a crumpled heap lying of the floor. The pigman grunted, holstering the bloodied blade.

"It is my greatest desire that the nation never find out about this, Mr. Kholer. And it's a shame you had to die like this…such a pitiful manner. But the future of my company must be served and…well, you're no longer in our interests," LeBlanc spoke to the dying man on the floor, picking up his 9mm. Kholer grunted, unable to form words; he was bleeding out quickly.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Kholer. Your service will not soon be forgotten."

The muzzle flash lit up the dark room.

Night had fallen; I heard the distant hissing of spiders hunting for their prey. The walls of New Jamestown would be enough to protect every citizen; but I still felt insecure, as though something out there wanted to reach for me, to grab me, and pull me away into the darkness. The helicopters were still returning from the ravine, and I could barely register the distinct sounds of gunfire and explosions from the west. The battle still hadn't ended; many transports were coming back with nothing more than bloodied bodies and half-empty ammo crates.

_Bloc 110. That's what she told me._

I stopped in front of the wooden bloc house with a 110 marked on the door. This was Song's house; Newell had given me half an hour to break the news to her about my impending leave-taking in the service of InSec. He didn't understand; thirty minutes wouldn't be enough for our possibly last goodbye. What if I never returned to New Jamestown? Never saw her again, ever, and had to serve my nation with a gaping void in my heart until death? I tried to feel a sense of nationalism, a desire to serve my country, but they had failed me so often. I knocked at the door, wiping away the bead of sweat that was slipping down my brow. The door opened to the inside a few seconds later.

"Hey, uh, Song…"

"Hi!" she exclaimed, opening the door wider. She motioned for me to come inside. "Glad you came over, I figured you might want to eat here after a long day, and maybe stay the night with me—"

"Song, there's something we need to talk about. Something important." I tried to stay as neutral as possible.

"Something…important? Are you breaking—"

"No, no…not like in that sense. It's something entirely different—and it's not necessarily good news." I swallowed a lump in my throat. My emotions were getting the best of me.

She sat down on the bed. "Alright, go on," she said apprehensively. She feared the worst, but hoped for the best, just as I did. I sat down beside, putting my arm around her shoulder gently.

"_Are _you breaking up with me?" she asked, ensuring that she sounded polite. I nodded my head in affirmation. "Not at all. But…"

"But what?" she asked impatiently. "What's wrong?"

I wasn't sure how to put this while talking to her. Time was running out; Newell would be calling for me soon, dragging me back to the town hall and to his headquarters beneath it. I had to do this, and fast. And as sensitively as possible.

"Song…I've been pressured into InSec…"

She burst into tears. I'd never seen such a reaction, from anybody—but she broke down, right there, in the middle of the bed. Her head slumped up against me; I felt like shit at that moment, even though I knew it wasn't my fault. But that didn't help at all; it took her at least two minutes to stopper the flow of tears and gain her resolve again.

"You—you…you're leaving m-me?" she sputtered, her pitiful brown eyes meeting mine. My heart sank like a lead brick, heavy with dread and remorse for even mentioning this. But how couldn't I mention it? It would break her heart any way…there was only one thing I could do.

"Song…I'll return…"

"No, no, I know you won't, they'll drag you away—"

"I will return to you. I swear it."

She knew I was serious. But how could she trust me? I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out the only piece of jewelry I had brought with me. An emberstone from the old country, a priceless jewel that had been in our family for generations. I had brought it for a good luck charm; I placed it in her palm.

"You know what this is, don't you?" I asked. She nodded.

"This is my promise to you. I will return to you, no matter how long it takes, and I will never let you go. We've known each other for only a few days, but…we'll manage to find one another. No matter what happens." I let go of the stone. She grasped it thoroughly, and threw her arms around me.

"Be back soon," I could hear her whisper. A knock came at the door; Newell already? It had only been ten minutes. I said no more to her; the stone was the lock of our promise, the future of our relationship. The door opened; it was Newell.

"It's only been—"My complaint was cut off immediately.

"Follow, now. We've got a problem."


	16. The Experiment Begins

Newell slammed the door behind him, leaving us alone in his main office underneath town hall. The office space was plain; a desk, a rug, a large map of the local area and some filing cabinets were all that existed in the concrete bunker, thirty feet below the streets. Newell accessed his computer, beckoning me to come over.

"So…what's this problem that's so urgent that requires you to drag me away from my last meeting with my girlfriend?" I asked angrily, looking him directly in the eye. He didn't respond.

"Listen," was all he said. He had brought up a sound file on his computer. I could hear the voice…I knew that as Administrator Kholer. He'd done so many propaganda shows in the capital, it was almost impossible not to know his face and voice…and that distinct eyepatch. The recording played out.

"_This is Administrator, sending a message to all InSec captains and officers across the country. I don't have much time, but my message must be clear: there's an uprising in the works. We have reason to believe that CEO LeBlanc is attempting to totally wipe out any political factions that oppose him…so far his motives are unclear, and he apparently is still using Sec…but a civil war is about to erupt. I am giving all InSec officers full Level Six authority—all access to missile silos, shutdown protocol and complete control over state-run television networks. I repeat, this is civil war—all InSec units are to immediately—"_

The message ended there. My blood froze in my veins; a civil war? Not possible…LeBlanc ran the entire damn state! What more could he want? Sure, the Pope had always been a bit of a thorn in his side, and state officials were a bit of an obstacle…but InSec? Why would he wipe out his greatest ally in a potential civil war? Now they were his enemy…but were they my friends? My world was crashing down around my ears, collapsing…the ones I had always envisioned as the bad guys, the InSec, were now fighting the very power that had supported me, given me a home and enough food to survive.

"It's a goddamn civil war…I bet LeBlanc terrorized the Sec officials into turning against InSec and giving their full allegiance to him." Newell spoke. He seemed lost, his face blanched; his eyes were full of danger, wide and anxious.

"Christ…so the state's declared war on InSec?"

"No, this ain't the state. From this moment forward, the state's dead. This is LeBlanc…he's not fighting for the state, it controlled everything. But _he _wants to control everything…and maybe more."

"Maybe more?" I asked, confused and angered. "What do you mean, maybe more—and why are you telling me all of this? Who am I? I'm nobody, not some goddamn general—"

I froze in mid-sentence. I'd never imagine an InSec captain saying anything along the lines of what Captain Newell was about to say.

"You are…the person I can trust most, Nathan." He said it sadly, matter-of-factly. The words stung him; he now had to put his trust, even his life, in the hands of a lowly peasant miner. But he said he could trust me; his facial features didn't lie.

"Captain Newell—"

"It's Brian. Brian Newell is all I am now. There will be no real InSec in the morning…the organization as we know it will cease to exist."

I could feel the entire world collapsing. Everything I knew…shattered, turned into dust…how could it be possible? Everything falling apart like this…I shook my head. It had to be a dream. I'd wake up in bed to Wil snoring, chuckle at the absurdity, then fall back into a deep sleep, knowing life would be perfect in New Jamestown…

A crackle from the computer drew my attention. Newell, or Brian, turned his attention there as well. A voice came through—not entirely clear, but it was there.

"Hello…hello? Anyone respond?" Brian asked desperately, tapping the computer, hoping to get receiving. The voice did manage to come through. Newell's eyes lit up.

"Hello—this is Lambda 8—who is this?"

"Omega 15 here, checking in…this is New Jamestown firebase…what the hell's going on there?" Brian yelled into the computer mic. The radio crackled again, and then came through.

"Omega 15—did you get the message, the administrator—"

"I did, I got it…is this—"

"It's hell, something like that," the callsign Lambda 8 cried over the audible sounds of machine gun fire and car alarms. "It's total chaos here in Purdue…we've got everything going on here, it's a fucking war zone…they've turned the streets to the Crusaders, they've loosed the Crusaders—"

The radio cut out there. It was only static fizzle. I understood little of that…Purdue? It was a city famous for its Latino nightlife and for dairy production…but what had happened now? Crusaders?

"Christ Almighty…are we really that desperate?" Newell cried aloud, pounding his fists on the table.

"Desperate? What do you mean…"

"Crusaders…InSec, we've always had them. Twenty feet tall, bipedal war machines basically, like a giant engine on legs with a crested head. It's AI…in the case of a total emergency, or total war, the Crusaders were designed to be unleashed to destroy everything, and everyone…they've got dual miniguns on both arms, those things that draw their power from the oxygen around them…and that cannon atop its head…when it fires, it only creates a huge vacuum about a hundred foot diameter...and when that bubble collapses any living thing in there…well, its SNT for them." Newell said. The radio only crackled.

"SNT?"

"Sudden Nerve Trauma. Basically, they become a carrot if they're in that vacuum. It's useful against large groups of enemy soldiers but…it can't distinguish from friend or foe until its turned off and then its short term memory is wiped and restored. Until then…everything dies, I guess."

I felt sick for those people on the radio—they couldn't stop their own war machine, except to destroy it completely.

"Why can't they stop it?"

"AI's not advanced enough. Some dumb dick up at InSec command figured better to have a killing machine that kills your own soldiers than not to…some good that turned out to be."

I felt a surge of pity; those men on the radio were sure to be dead. And all the citizens…if Purdue had gone to hell so quickly, what would be left of Iron Cliffs? Or Thebes? Or Diamond City? How many would die in this conflict?

"How many people will die today…" It wasn't a question, more of a statement. Newell nodded his head in agreement. We both knew.

"It's war with Sania as well. It's been officially declared, Pope ordered a crusade before his assassination…if he was assassinated…I guess he was…"

The second blow had struck. I swore in the middle of the office, slapping my legs and holding my head in my hands. What of my parents? The Outer Lands to the west would certainly fare better, but to the north…the Sanians would not spare any of the coal belt. And the Inner Areas…trashed. It would be the end of our civilization as we knew it, and it was this very fact I couldn't deal with.

"Notch above…"

"Cannot save our damned souls now," Newell finished, spitting on the floor. "No saving grace from even Notch himself, or our mysterious eternal creators, can save the doom we have brought upon ourselves."

"We're all just mortals," I spoke, trying to make sense of the hell growing, burning around me. "We're…expendable…to the creators…they must've created something else out there…we're just one of their creations. So what if we destroy ourselves? Failed experiment, done, kaput…that's it…"

It made me feel even worse. To think, that we were just an experiment…one that had defied its hypothesis. Or perhaps it lived up to it? Perhaps the hypothesis was that we would destroy ourselves in the end no matter what, and the experiment simply proved that point of view? Or perhaps the hypothesis was that we would survive, no matter what the odds…and the experiment was just beginning.

"We are an experiment," I blurted out, to no one in particular. "The hypothesis is unclear…but goddamnit, the experiment had just begun. This can change yet." I felt new resolve growing in me; I had no idea what I was going to do, what part I would take, but I knew that something had to be done.

Newell rose from his chair; he looked like he had an idea.

"Are you—"

"Take this pistol, and head to the Sec barracks. Give them the obvious choices—join us, or die here and now. Gather everyone you see in the common room of the town hall, and we'll have to plot our course on our own."

I took the pistol, feeling the cold steel in my hands, freezing. The beginning had ended…and the end had now just begun.


	17. Mustering the Resistance

The bell of the town hall tower struck midnight. The common room was full of people, and yet it was ominously silent, as if we were waiting for the end. We very well may have been waiting for that end; Captain Newell and Mayor Rosenthal stood in the center of the room, surrounded by half-awake Sec soldiers, exhausted veterans of Delta Ravine, miners and a few civilians. It was all quiet; Newell appeared as if he was attempting to speak, but words were failing him. Finally, he spoke up.

"Well…I suppose rumors spread quickly. Quite frankly, I don't believe that we will make it out of this conflict alive."

There were no surprised gasps, no shocked reactions; the thing that chilled me most was that every soldier's eyes accepted this fate; they knew that death had come to their doorstep, and they knew that the captain's words were true. I saw Tar, Wil and Jeff out of the corner of my eye, standing amidst a pack of half-dressed Sec troops. They wore the same expressions on their face; they looked as if they would just give up.

"We…may not survive. But goddamnit, if I must, I will fight to my very end."

The soldiers looked up, their eyes all focused on their captain. No one else spoke, or even reacted; they were simply too stunned to do anything. I felt a surge of pity for the Sec soldiers; what of their families back in the Old Country? No news had come out of the mainland; communications had been almost entirely cut off. It felt as if we had suddenly fallen into a vortex of blackness, without sight, sound or feel, and were just blindly staggering towards the fate that awaited us, cruel and black. I wasn't sure where Newell was going, but I had a feeling it involved a return to the homeland.

"Now, listen. All of you Sec troops, you're here against your will. Your commanding officers…have either chosen to fight with the enemy, or been coerced into doing so."

"The enemy?"

The Sec commanding officer stepped forward. He was a haughty man, who commanded the defenses of the town. He had apparently been stationed as police before; he wore the expression and gaunt look of a man who'd seen many beatings.

"Captain Callis…is there a reason for your objection?" Newell asked, gritting his teeth. I had a feeling that it would come to this; I began to sweat in my newly-obtained InSec armor, and clutched the handle of my pulse rifle tightly. It remained strapped to my back, ready for use at a moment's notice.

"Our benefactor, Mr. LeBlanc…there must be a reason for him to rally us to his banner—"

"LeBlanc _is _the enemy now," Newell seethed. His eyes were blazing with a fury I had never seen before; he directed his attention to Captain Callis, who stepped back into his own ranks. "You stupid flea-ridden bastards need to know that now. The man you've pledged your oaths to for years has forsaken you, he is trying to use you—"

"Mr. LeBlanc would never use us—"

"HE IS USING YOU RIGHT NOW!" Newell yelled, shaking the very room with his fury. "The man you pledged the Oath of 3S Allegiance to—strength, sacrifice, service! HE NO LONGER GIVES A DAMN! He's using you now—as cannon fodder, throwing you out in front of the Crusaders as they commit genocide against their own creators! He'll have you slaughter civilians, rape them, burn them, torture them, and destroy their cities! The cities his predecessors built with their own hands! And whatever forces drives him…it drives you to the same madness? Will you join the mainland, fighting as a nameless pawn for a man none of us understand?"

Silence. I hoped that there would not be a standoff, not now.

"ANSWER ME! Captain Callis, answer me goddamnit! Would you swear another oath to this madman! He is no longer LeBlanc, he is no longer our benefactor…he is our enemy." Sweat flooded Newell's flushed cheeks. I had never seen a rugged, muscled man like Captain Callis so humbled. He had been humiliated by his commanding officer. The Sec soldiers were conflicted; they seemed apt to join either argument.

"Captain Callis, since your loyalty is undecided, please join my little experiment. For those of you who will stand for the people, step to the right side of the room. For those of you who still hold to your oaths…please, feel free to step to the left side."

About nine out of every ten men went to the right side. Sec, InSec, miners, officials, almost all of them stepped to the right side of the room. The left side was almost minute; it was Captain Callis, four of his most loyal thugs, and the mayor.

"Mayor Rosenthal?"

"I refuse to turn my back to the company I swore an oath to. They have been—"

"You are not fighting 3S, Mr. Rosenthal," Newell spoke, his voice calmer now. "You are fighting LeBlanc. 3S no longer exists under his power. It has, in fact, ceased to exist. The Pope is dead, the general manager is slain, my administrator is dead as well. Sanian forces gather on the northern border. We need to know now—are you with us, or against us?"

Rosenthal was conflicted. He answered with a simple gesture—he stepped out of the front door, leaving the heavy oak doors swinging.

"Captain Callis?"

"Yes, Captain Newell?"

"You are to escort every civilian to a ship. They will take the ships to Port Nova, as far from Diamond City as you can get. You will be relieved of your command as captain of New Jamestown Security—"

"You can't relieve me!—"

"New Jamestown no longer exists, Callis. We're pulling everyone out of here. I have received information that mercenaries are coming to attack New Jamestown, and destroy the colony. Evacuation is priority number one."

"But—"

"_Now_, Mr. Callis. You are relieved of your rank."

That was the final word. Callis left, swearing and shaking his head, and his remaining loyal men followed. We all gathered around Newell. Scared, unsure of what to do. We had just declared war on our own Benefactor, along with the rest of InSec. I knew not what was happening on the mainland; I knew the cities were burning, the war rising. Had the nukes been launched? Had the generators melted down? The unknown far outnumbered the known; we were in that vortex now, blind, hoping for an outcome that would allow us to find love and life again.

"Now…for our plans…we must leave New Jamestown immediately. The civilians go first…but we need to hold off those mercenaries," Newell said, addressing every man.

"The defenses are still operational, right?" I asked him. That was the first time I had spoken up; all eyes turned to me, all of the hundred or so men in the large common room.

"They are…I hadn't thought of that. There's two Vulcans along the beach, and pulse guns mounted on towers…Somers, get men to those defenses, preferably InSec…we need to provide as much cover for the ships as possible—"

A sudden rumble shook the ground, rattling dust from the walls, shaking the chandelier hanging above us. It was followed by another, and yet another. A sinking fear enveloped me…

They had arrived.


	18. Assault on the Colony, Part I

The thundering roar of gunships was unmistakable; I could spot at least three over the horizon, approaching the town quickly. The mercenaries…they had arrived. The trouble was, we had no clue who they were…were they InSec, selling themselves out to the highest bidder? Sec soldiers? Or were they Sanians, who sold themselves just to burn and pillage without having to face justice? I couldn't be sure, but I knew we needed to take action immediately. Newell was already on top of that.

"SOMERS! Head to the Portside Gate, make sure that every civilian is somewhere safe—get them to the emergency bunker by the ships! Get someone up on that pulse gun—and that ZU23 by the docks!" Newell cried out. He began giving out other orders—trying to man every single turret in town. There was another pulse gun in the town hall's bell-tower, one that could target the gunships…but that was it. Just the gate gun and the anti-air cannon at the docks.

I began to sprint towards the docks, taking the main thoroughfare. Several Sec soldiers followed me; we were all panting, sweat pouring down our faces, racing against time. Something that sounded like an ungodly hiss drowned out even the noise of the gunships; one of the Brimstone missiles had been fired, right at city hall. It hit the bell-tower with a mighty explosion and a crack as the wood splintered and the iron casing was destroyed, sending the remnants of the broken tower crashing down on the houses below. I hoped no one had been in either the houses or the tower; dust flew up from the impact site, choking my throat and blocking my vision. But I was almost to the docks, still going at a full sprint; two of the Sec soldiers broke off from their run, towards the entrance to the gatehouse; one of the gunships was doing a full 360 degree turn, and landed in the main plaza; another landed outside of the west gate, out towards the ravine, and another landed near the Sec kiosk at the northern gate. I could hear more gunships approaching; more men were coming.

"Hey—down here!"

I saw one of my Sec troopers motioning to a trapdoor inside the gatehouse. As the others broke off to empty out houses and escort civilians to the bunker, I followed the young officer down the trapdoor, into a small hollow space in the rock below. Weapons of all sorts lined the wall; the officer groped at the solid wall for a moment before flipping a lever, illuminating the bunker with a single, warm incandescent bulb at the ceiling. There were too many weapons for me to carry; gladly, I picked up an SMG from the racks, but took a bit more caution handling the laser-guided M2CG that was lying idly against the wall, propped up beside some janitorial supplies.

_Who the hell puts a recoilless gun by a mop?_ I thought as I hefted the massive rocket launcher onto my shoulder. It must've been at least ten pounds; I had little knowledge of military firearms or explosives, but this thing was massive. I lifted it up over my shoulder, barely able to carry it back up the ladder, and stood beside the gatehouse, aiming it up at the sky. Anyone could learn how to use this; I aimed the small laser in the sight at one of the approaching gunships, and pulled the trigger, making sure to keep the laser on the gunship.

The machine did some sort of evasive spin, making the rocket go in a full 360 before hitting the left-side rocket engine of the gunship, blasting the engine and part of the back end to pieces and sending the gunship itself into a tailspin. The broken engine whirred and screamed, as the machine struggled to stay aloft and level off. But it did not; my hit had been a lucky shot, direct; the explosion had sent it into an unrecoverable tailspin, and I saw at least four bailouts before it hit the sheer face of the northern cliff wall and exploded, the jet fuel in the other engine sending the flaming metal remnants falling into the sea, propelled by the force of the explosion. I felt sick for those who didn't bail out; but the adrenaline soon wiped it out. I had killed before; how was this different? I knew that these thoughts would be what corrupted me…but that didn't occur to me right then. It would be too late before I realized that I had made a monster of myself.

Civilians began streaming out of the blocs; half-dressed, terrified, half asleep, women, children and men stumbled from their dwellings, led by Sec troopers. The Sec were trying to do good by them here; they helped the elderly and children, carried belongings for people, and promised them that everything would be okay, even though it would never be. I had never seen a Sec officer do this; perhaps that the Sec here were now free of the shackles of their brutal, opportunistic administrators, perhaps they would find a degree of humanity within them? Nevertheless, the people were too tired or too scared to resist or argue; they shambled down to the docks, looking up in awe and terror at the gunships. Another missile went off; it streaked towards the western gate, but I did not see its impact, only felt the shockwaves rippling through the ground.

The loud, repetitive thud of the pulse gun above me rattled the timbers of the gatehouse; I could see purple cylinder-like packets of light flying through the air in a straight line, towards the gunships that were now pouring chaingun fire down onto the soldiers below them. At least one of the powerful pulse shots was a direct hit; I saw the metal plating of a bulkhead sheared clean off, sending the gunship into a wild tailspin from the force of the impact; it recovered, but it was burning, and its speed had decreased enormously. It wasn't worth a rocket; when I was about to load another and take aim at a third gunship rising over the western trees, I felt a tap on my shoulder. The same Sec trooper from earlier was holding a walkie-talkie; his face was covered in sand, ash and blood.

"Captain Newell for you. He says to address you as 'Sir', and he's got a problem," the fresh-faced Sec trooper told me. I took the radio from his hands, and listened to the incoming transmission with apprehension.

"Newell? This is Nat, what—"

"Somers! Goddamn, let Sec take care of the civvies—they're focusing everything they have down on the plaza here, we've got—"

The gatehouse above me exploded into flame. Burning pieces of wood showered me; my armor was enough to protect from the burning, but the ash and smoke drove me away from the blast site. A gunship hovered over the destroyed gatehouse; its chaingun crews were silent, however. Two ropes fell down the sides of the gunship, down to the broken remains of the gate and the pulse gun, whose crew had been incinerated in the blast. The two things that rappelled down the side of the gunship—that was what terrified me. I had seen them before. I knew what they were.

Zombie pigmen.


	19. Assault on the Colony, Part II

I was momentarily stunned as the pigmen rappelled down the gunship's bay bulkhead, down into the smoking rubble below. Two had already deployed and were on the ground when my senses returned to me and I realized that more were deploying from the bay. I lifted the CG up to my shoulders and blindly fired; I don't think the pilot ever realized I was there. It hit the cockpit, killing the pilot instantly, and sending the gunship crashing down to earth, throwing it off into the beach with the force of the rocket. The only survivors were the two pigmen on the ground, who proceeded to charge at me with loud snarls of rage. I had never seen one of them up close before; they were pigmen, but half of their face had rotted off, exposing muscle and skull, and their toothed snouts were contorted in rage and agony, presumably due to their torturous state of undeath. They wielded great bastard swords, red blades that could bisect a man in one quick slice; luckily, they were hefty, even for the pigmen, and as the first one attempted to swing at me I bashed it over the head with the end of the CG, knocking it backwards with the force of the blow. I knew it would harm the weapon, but my life was at stake; whipping the CG around, I lashed out at the next pigman, who charged me just like his kinsman. I hit him, but the CG flew out of my hands with the momentum, crashing in the rubble to my right. The second pigman fell back; I was now confronted with the first again, this time bleeding from a massive gash on his head.

I ducked the slice from the bastard sword, but the creature fell onto me, trying to tear me to pieces with its teeth and claws. Wasting no time, I threw him off with my legs, giving me enough breathing room to drag my sword from my pack and try to beat it off with the hilt. I became terrified, then enthralled, then disgusted as the hilt bashed its face in, beating the flesh to a pulp. All the while the pigman alternated between trying to block my blows and trying to bite into me, while its skull was being smashed. After a few seconds, it fell silent; I felt a sharp pain on my arm, and realized that the other pigman had clawed at that, having tripped over a broken water main and fell onto me. Throwing the dead pigman off of my chest, I threw the sword over my body and brought it down with all the force I could muster, slashing the pigman across the back of the neck. The sword went clean through; my arm was covered in gooey scarlet blood, and the other pigman fell silent as well, face down in the water and blood. The sight was still sickening, despite all that I had seen so far, and I retreated down the road, pursuing the sounds of pulse guns and machine gun fire.

The alleys seemed like a better choice; I opted to go down through them, weaving between blocs of wooden houses. I never saw the Sec trooper leap the chain fence, pursued by a bulldog. He ran right into me; I wonder what he thought? To see a man in InSec armor, wielding a bloody sword, his face flecked with blood and mud, dashing at him with the weapon held high? The man was no more than twenty years of age; he could've been a college dropout, or a high school jock, coerced or forced into Sec. Those thoughts, like many others, came to me later; I drove the sword through the bulletproof armor, clean through the other side. At least it was clean; he died almost instantly, the sword having pierced his heart. As much as it pained me, I had to shoot the dog too; I made it merciful, taking out the SMG and delivering a clean shot to the barking dog's head. With a whimper and a whine, it fell backwards, landing on a garbage can and knocking that over. I climbed the fence, avoiding stepping on the bodies of both the Sec soldier and the dog, and arrived at the main plaza.

It was a warzone in every sense of the word; bolts of bluish light from the pulse guns darted back and forth, bullets danced across the flat ground, and bodies lay everywhere; I couldn't tell what was friendly and what wasn't, except for the pigmen rushing a group of InSec troopers, who were desperately reloading and trying to fight off the hellish invaders. I did my part; I fired a direct shot at the pigmen, hitting one of them square in the back of the head. He stumbled, but did not fall; instead, he redirected his attention towards me, charging at me, still confused and stunned by the bullet lodged in his head. I fired more; I fired my whole clip at him, and it took until almost the last bullet to force the stumbling pigman to fall dead, not ten feet from me.

My fire had brought me some unwanted attention; bullets now embedded themselves in the wood right next to me, forcing me back behind the wall; I began to panic, realizing that the Sec troopers were now attempting to fire at me, and engage the sniper behind their lines. This gave my allies a chance to fight back; I noticed the InSec soldiers cutting down the pigmen with their swords, bashing their skulls in despite taking some casualties, and other miners firing arrows and SMGs at the Sec troopers now taking fire from all sides. They were beginning to panic, and break, under the pressure; as bullets flew past me, I fired my last clip blindly towards the Sec troops at the crumpled bell tower. I don't know if any hit them; I just fired blindly, hoping that I could distract them a bit longer and allow my allies to fire. Then, the Sec trooper ran right into me.

He was just like the other one, young and fresh. He had a combat knife drawn, and his face was bloodied and bruised; he had seen combat, just like me. We were about to engage; our human reason had gone to waste, we were about to let primeval instinct carry us into a melee, tearing at each other, destroying one another's bodies…then the noise echoed through the air, roiling like a wave breaking on land, the blood-chilling cry that could only be zombies.

The very cry rent the air as if the mourning of the damned had reached up from hell; I began to smell a fetid stench as the trees around New Jamestown began to come alive and thousands of tiny black shapes descended from the trees, running at full speed, their arms at their sides, their eyes glowing. And behind them stood the shadows; malevolent, silent, they would goad on the undead without a word, their very being intimidating the zombies and forcing them to run in the other direction. Tactics of fear; the young Sec man dropped his knife as he saw the horde racing down the northern hill towards the gate. I could smell urine; it was him, pissing his pants as he saw his fate racing at full speed towards the town.

A new enemy had arrived on the battlefield. And this one couldn't be reasoned with.

It was a moment of stupor; then I regained my senses, once again. I tapped the Sec man on the shoulder, and he turned to me with the most agonizingly pitiful looks on his face.

"Soldier?"

"Y-y—"

"Son, you need to listen to me—"

"I don't want to die—"

"Listen to me, LISTEN TO ME! I need you to rejoin your unit—" The cries of the undead were getting louder "—and get them together! Aim for the head! GO!"

The young man raced off, oblivious to the fact that I had just been his enemy about ten seconds ago. The two sides had stopped firing, and were reorganizing to face the main threat; I saw the pigmen troop off towards the western gate, towards Delta Ravine…where were they going? Were they abandoning the Sec bodyguards they had? The Sec soldiers were confused and frightened, as their commanders struggled to reorganize them and retain control over their units. Terrified, one of the Sec officers approached me, dropping his weapon and raising his hands upon his head.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot damnit, we surren—"

"Grab your weapon, grab it! Get your men, follow me, and AIM FOR THE HEAD!" I yelled, equally terrified. I wanted to throw down my weapon and surrender as well; but this was an enemy that could NOT be reasoned with. They would leave none alive if we couldn't hold the town.

The officer gathered up his men, and we sallied out past a confused Newell, who was taking prisoners from the terrified Sec units, and I led them out towards the northern gate. I could already see the wooden boards coming apart as the zombies clawed at them; I noticed a gunship above firing down at the horde. A mistake; I watched in horror as one of the Endermen teleported into the cockpit and went to work. The blood was visible even from here, splattered all over the inside of the glass as the gunship, without a pilot, went down and crashed into the horde, catching flame and careening through the mass of undead and into the walls, smashing them and catching the wood ablaze. Any zombies who tried to enter the breach burned; at least that part of the flank was secure. But we had the gate to worry about.

"What do we—"

"AIM FOR THE FUCKING HEAD!" I yelled out to the officer. The gate doors burst open as we were within twenty feet of them; the Sec did their duty well. I saw dozens of headshots, the blood bursting in air, and fired my own weapon, having found two clips from a dead soldier. It was a mad slaughterhouse, made worse by the fact that another gunship was firing its missiles at the gateway, blasting the wood into fragments and forcing us all back. It was becoming overwhelming after a minute; an Enderman teleported in front of the horde, absorbing the Sec bullets, and cut down the officer and two men before being force back by a sword, pushed back into the squirming mass of the walking dead. I fled at that point; it wasn't my job to keep the unit organized, not that they could be. They had broken into full rout; even with the wall jammed with the burning gunship, the zombies were too many. I ignored the Enderman as well; the last gunship was landing in the town plaza, as the pigmen returned. Each of them had a block on their backs—those that looked eerily similar to the portal blocks from the stronghold. They had removed the blocks? But…how? Would the portal work? And why would they want the portal? I had a gut feeling this was what LeBlanc wanted…but was he truly that mad with power? Ready to unleash the end upon us all simply…to get what? I couldn't understand the why, but the how was perfectly clear. LeBlanc had hired the pigmen—and now had his portal.

We were trapped, surrounded by zombies. And the last gunship, with the portal blocks in it, was lifting off and flying away.


	20. The Face of Chaos

I couldn't believe it. I had to look again as the transport flew off without us, the pigmen having boarded the gunship and flown off. Hell, they had even deserted their allies; the Sec troopers who had escorted them in their attack on the colony were waving and shouting at the gunship, begging it to return. There would be no return; they were just trying to deny the inevitable. We had all been left for dead, with the horde of zombies approaching every gate of the town, save the one by the beach, the eastern gate.

"Shit, shit…" Newell, a calm man himself with years of leadership experience, was beginning to panic. I had already panicked; the swarm from the northern gate was growing, as the Sec soldiers I had led collapsed into a rout back to the plaza. There was only one method of escape remaining; I thought of it right then, right there, as the screams of the zombies grew closer.

"The ships! We need to get to the ships!" I cried, trying to rally my "enemies" and my friends. Some of them comprehended what I was saying; they began to rally their friends, trying to get them to the three ships anchored at the docks. I turned to Newell, who was aghast at the situation.

"Captain—"

"I'm no longer captain to you—"

"But you're captain to them!" I cried pointing to the mass of miners now firing blindly at the zombies. "You need to get these men together! I'll try the best I can to get them to the ships!"

"Civilians first, make sure all civilians are at the beach!" Newell ordered. The masked InSec elite were not panicked one bit; they fought with blood-chilling efficiency, every shot a headshot, unmoving, picking off a target a second. They had trained to be cold-blooded killers, and that training was now paying off for them.

"Are you gonna handle the soldiers?" I asked him, yelling over the gunfire. He nodded a response, then grabbed me by the shoulder.

"Civilians first! I'll fight a retreat!" he said urgently, and shoved me towards the alleyway I had come in from. I hurried onwards; every door had to be knocked at, every bloc along my route secured. From other parts of the colony miners had brought their own families, arming themselves with swords and bows, even simple wooden axes and stone picks, escorting their loved ones to the beach with haste. Bullets were still flying; some hard-headed Sec platoons wouldn't give up the fight, and fired on terrified civilians and miners, who were unable to respond with their simple weaponry. I shot to death one Sec trooper attempting to rape a young woman; as soon as the trooper fell dead, the blood streaming from his wounds, she ran off down another alleyway, crying in terror, and I was unable to catch her and try to bring her towards the eastern gate. Everywhere was chaos; some zombies had made it through and were now posing yet another obstacle. Thankfully, some of the Sec invaders had decided that the undead were the worst of their worries, and had turned their full attention to the swarm, somewhat inaccurately firing with their SMGs at the zombies. The chaos was full.

Ten minutes seemed to go by like a second; I suddenly found myself with fifteen civilians, mostly men and women, struggling to match my furious, frantic pace towards the gate. As soon as we reached the cleared rubble, I urged them to go on to the nearest four-master, the _Empyrean_, without me. Fear of what lay behind them drove them onwards; I could tell they also had a fear of what lay ahead of them, the unknown state of their old homes and old land beyond the sea. Some of them fanned out towards the _Whelk_; the remainder ran to the largest ship, the dreadnought _Dynasty_ _Warrior_, which had a mounted artillery piece on its deck that was not in use. It would've benefited us; but I had no time to run onto the ship and order the crew to man the gun. It was back into the blood, dust and smoke.

My second run was worse than the second; I came back to the plaza and realized that it had been forsaken, overrun by zombies. As soon as they saw me, they began pursuit, limping and running towards the human in the alleyway. I scrambled up over the chain fence where the dog's carcass still lay, just in time to escape the reaching arm of the Enderman. As it threw its mighty body over the fence, I bashed it across the smooth, shiny head with my SMG, then drove my sword into its body. The thing thrashed about for a bit, dying in its agony, while the zombies tore at the fence, bloody, scabby hands reaching through the gaps for me. I stole the Ender Pearl from the Enderman's corpse; the weight of the four pearls was growing in my pack. I felt myself more weighed down than before, racing past blocs and garbage cans, ignoring the stink and shriek that seemed to surround me now. The second run would be the last; as I exited onto the main thoroughfare, I saw the miners and InSec troopers rushing towards the ships, albeit in an organized manner, pursued by the zombies and now some skeletons. An arrow hit one of the miners in the back; he fell, wounded, and was left behind by his own teammates. I had no time to reach him; the man was devoured alive, pulled back by about a dozen hungry zombies. It was sickening; I ran desperately to avoid his fate, past miners lugging heavy materials or children, past the heavy InSec troopers breathing through their masks, and finally past Newell, who was carrying an unconscious child towards the _Dynasty Warrior_.

We had finally met the ugly face of Chaos itself. Everyone was pushing themselves into the ships, knocking some people off gangplanks, or off the deck in their rush to safety. I saw Sec troopers, once the enemy, mingling with the civilians and miners, pushing their own way to safety. I ran for the farthest but safest ship, the _Dynasty Warrior_, hoping that its cannon would be crewed in time to face the threat. Every InSec soldier followed Newell onto the _Warrior_ as well, carrying everything they had onto the ship. The smoke was blinding; the deafening sound of gunfire, screams, screeching, and the waves dashing themselves on the rocks almost put out my ears for good. The smell was horrible; I almost vomited, if it weren't for the adrenaline pushing me on at every moment, urging me to go further, faster, to race to the ship. I had no idea where Song was, or Wil, Jeff, Tar, or any of my miner squad. I had little idea what anything was; all I knew was that death lay behind me, and death laid ahead of me. We were leaving what was possibly the safest place at this time, exchanging it for death and destruction in the homeland.

The _Whelk _and _Empyrean_ left first, using the strong wind blowing out of the west to propel them east and off the docks. The zombies were now overrunning the docks, tearing at the wood of the ships, falling into the waters and flailing until they drowned, or being dashed upon the rocks along with the powerful waves. The _Warrior _ was the last to leave; it had to power up its engines as zombies bit and clawed at the steel hull, to no avail. As we left port, we dragged zombies with us into the water, thrashing about as they tried to sink their teeth into the metal one last time.

Thus we left fire. We would soon return to it.


	21. Restoration One

I remember it seemed like forever since we left our burning homes. Newell, safe onboard the _Dynasty Warrior_, had mentioned something about "Restoration One", a massive floating aircraft carrier once in the service of 3S that had pledged itself to InSec as the civil war began. But he said nothing more of it; I figured it would just be another false hope, and that we were sailing to a land of war and destruction.

I suppose I had been on the ship for about six hours, having had almost no sleep the past night. It was almost dawn; I could see some light filtering through the small porthole window in my room. I was about to fall into sleep, trying to forget the nightmare I had just lived through the past few weeks, when a knock came at my door.

"Come in…" I said weakly. My throat was still choked with smoke. The door opened up to the inside; Song stood there, her face clean of any blood or dirt, unlike mine. She seemed to be in a better mood than me; she actually smiled when she walked in. I rose up, groaning; my head felt like a block of stone, and my arms and legs ached like hell. Still, she was a welcome presence after everything that had happened.

"Well…we're alive, aren't we?" she chuckled, prodding my arm. I only sighed, feeling the aches and pains take their toll on me. I needed some sleep.

"Yeah…but I feel like…well, you know…"

"I'm sure you painted yourself as a hero, Nat. The miners have faith in you; you've become something like their captain, if that could ever exist for a group of ragtag drunks like them."

"Way to insult the guys who probably saved your life," I sneered. I didn't mean to be angry, or say anything rude; but it just slipped out. Her reaction surprised me beyond anything that had happened tonight.

"What? They didn't save my life." She drew out from behind her back a sword, coated in zombie blood. I noticed the scabbard hanging from straps around her waist; the blue straps had blended in with her low-cut dress, which had some bloodstains on it. She smiled, holding the sword at her side.

"Badass," I smirked, smiling at her. She put the sword back in the scabbard just as a haggard, defeated Newell came around the corner, supporting himself on the doorframe. He needed just as much sleep as me; he looked exhausted, his eyelids drooping. Compared to Song, he looked almost dead.

"Captain?" I asked, saluting him. He held his hand out, as if asking me to stop.

"As of right now, I am not a captain," he spoke, exasperated. He held his head in his hands. "You are the one who is the hero now. I just led the soldiers to the ships—you handled the civilians. I came to tell you we're almost to Restoration One."

"Restoration One? So…it's real?"

"Well of course it's real," Newell snorted. "Why else would I tell you about it? InSec's using it as headquarters for this…catastrophe." He had trouble choosing the right word to describe the civil war. "With luck, we can cooperate with them and organize a way to get back into the cities, and maybe…I'm too far ahead of myself. Get to the deck, Administrator Collins is eager to see you."

"Your…new administrator? How does he know—"

"How does _she_ know, Somers. Celia Collins is our new administrator—she's showing a lot of promise, too. I mentioned you in a phone conversation—well, more of described your recent exploits—and she's eager to meet you. Ten minutes."

Newell shuffled out of the room, nearly asleep. Song watched him walk down the hallway, shuffling away, then turned back to me.

"A hero, eh?" she said. "Sounds like you've done one hell of a good job…"

"Eh. It was…well, yeah, it was something…but I'm not sure if I'm up to becoming a leader…" I didn't want to let anyone down. They were beginning to look up to me, as a leader and as an example for everyone else. But I didn't want the responsibility of becoming a leader—that was Newell's job. Besides, I had no training, little experience—everything I had done so far was based upon sheer luck.

"Well, they look up to you, Nat—"

"Song, please—"

"You can't just let them down, can you?" she asked, her voice pleading me. "They look up to you…as a leader—"

"Have you ever considered that I never wanted to be a leader, Song?" I asked her, turning towards her. She sat down on the bed, and our eyes locked. "Have you ever considered that I _never_ wanted all of this to happen? I'm sure you have, haven't you?"

She seemed confused, as if she was trying to avoid falling into an argument. I wasn't looking for an argument; I was only trying to force someone else to see this situation from my point of view. If no one else could understand me, she could.

"I…can understand that. I see from your point of view. But can you see from theirs? They're in the same situation as you, Nat…just think about them as well." She kissed me gently and left the room. It was time to head to deck and meet Restoration One.

Restoration One was a massive aircraft carrier; that was it. It was at least half a mile long; I wasn't good at judging distances, but it was huge. Part of it was dedicated to aircraft; there were at least three gunships and two heavy air transports on it, and the rest of the craft was dedicated to makeshift corrugated iron shanties and crude canvas tents.

_Refugees_, I thought with a sudden pang of pity. _They have nowhere else to go_.

"Hell, half that thing's dedicated to refugees…" Newell muttered. He was standing on the prow of the dreadnought along with me, the captain and a few InSec soldiers. Their breathing was heavy behind their masks; sweat roiled down my face, from the growing heat of the day. Several ropes were thrown from the carrier; I could see they were attached to huge deadweights on deck, allowing us to hold onto the carrier as soon as the carbon fiber ropes were attached to our hull. In a few moments groups of sailors had the ropes attached to our hull, and the attached to our hull, and the _Dynasty Warrior _was anchored to Restoration One. We had finally reached our destination.

"Where'd the other ships go? We lost them during the night?" I asked Newell. Both the _Whelk _ and _Empyrean_ were out of sight.

"Headed them off to Port Nova," Newell grunted. "They'd slow us down…better get most of the civilians out of harm's way."

At least Song was still with me, I thought. And my other mining squad friends—Tar, Jeff and Wil had all made it only the _Warrior_.

"Administrator Collins should be out in—"

A tall, strong-looking woman stepped onto the gangplank descending onto our deck. She wore InSec uniform—tight, padded blue armor—and a sailor's cap. Her hair was trimmed back to her neckline, and she looked to be only about thirty or so. A kinder replacement for the savage, brutal man who had been the previous administrator.

"Captain Newell…at ease," she spoke, as the captain saluted her sternly. I did nothing but watch her cautiously, keeping a level gaze; I did not trust this woman very much. I hardly trusted Captain Newell up until our debacle in the stronghold, and even now I was suspicious of his true motives. And we had been through a baptism by fire together.

"Ah…this is the Nat Somers I have heard about…the so-called 'hero of New Jamestown'?" she asked, offering her hand. I took it slowly, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She revealed nothing; it was as if a layer of fog concealed her true emotions.

"I am that man," I answered stoically.

"You impress me, Mr. Somers. I assume you've had your share of—difficulties?" I nodded; I didn't even want to answer her. I just wanted to sleep.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but all I'd like to do is sleep—"

"And you will, Mr. Somers. But I need you right now, you're presence is required in our command room. There is much you have yet to learn about the conflict—and much we do not know. Follow—Captain Newell, you too," she spoke, her voice cold and rigid. He went without question; I had trouble forcing my feet to move. I hated the bitch already—but a leader figure did make me feel more comfortable, even if it was this InSec asshole who had just refused me the sleep I had rightfully earned. I followed Newell instead, trusting him more, and was led through the labyrinthine tunnels of Restoration One, down belowdecks. Crew members scurried back and forth, marines, sailors, and even some InSec soldiers. Some of them looked bedraggled, others seemed to have gotten their beauty sleep last night. I envied them all, but shuffled zombie-like behind Newell, all the way to a large, stark room full of computers and other gadgets beyond my comprehension. In the center was a massive digital map; I recognized it almost immediately. My old home, the homeland.

"The homeland…all gone to hell," Collins spat, looking angrily down at Diamond City on the map. "LeBlanc," she hissed, "has betrayed us. I suppose you know about this, else you wouldn't have resisted the mercenaries?" Both Newell and I nodded our response.

"Very good…and what I have yet to say, may or may not shock you. Are you aware of the reason those mercenaries assaulted your colony last night?"

Neither of us answered. I figured she would know about the portal being removed; she seemed to be aware of everything that had happened since the war began. But I didn't speak.

"I know you know. But I will discuss it with you anyway. Those Sec troopers—"

"They were only escorts," I spoke out. She smiled at me, not in a friendly manner, but a gloating one, as she knew she had pried the information she wanted to hear out of me.

"Yes…only escorts. Zombie pigmen—you are familiar with those, Mr. Somers…I believe you are a survivor of Trojan Pass, are you not?"

I suddenly did a double take; I had been looking at the map. I looked at her, at the map again, and back to her. Trojan Pass was marked on the map, very vividly with crimson, surrounded by blue, red and yellow markings that could only stand for InSec, LeBlanc's forces and Sanians.

"How—"

"I know more than you could possibly comprehend, Mr. Somers. More than you need to comprehend. But I know you survived Trojan Pass—and you had a run in with zombie pigmen there, did you not?"

I nodded. It was too true; I hated to relive those memories, but they kept coming back to haunt me.

"These pigmen, they removed the portal of Delta Ravine, and we believe they have moved it back to Diamond City. Where else? The nature of this portal…it's something we don't quite understand yet…" For the first time, I noticed Collins express dismay. There was something she couldn't comprehend, and it bothered her. "But we do believe that it has access to another dimension…something our scientists and mystics have failed to unveil before."

"Like the Nether?" I asked, stupidly. Of course like the Nether—another mysterious dimension full of things that want to kill us. Collins ignored the question and continued.

"These things called Endermen, what savaged us back at Delta—they come from this new dimension. The End, we call it—nothing else is known about it. But we believe that LeBlanc…well, he wants to harness the portal. For what means, the creators and Notch only know. We cannot tell where he is going with this. We do know the portal will take a long time to set back up…giving us valuable time to try to thwart LeBlanc, or at least strike his forces a crippling blow."

"And how? This is going to—"

"Involve you? Unfortunately, Mr. Somers, yes it is." The damn woman could read my thoughts, I swear. "Your knowledge of Trojan Pass will be…indispensable to our resistance."

I began to sweat. Trojan Pass? What the hell did this woman want with that corruption?

"Trojan Pass?"

"Yes…the only Nether portal remaining. The ones at Diamond City and Brandenburg have been deactivated, and Pavia was nuked…Trojan Pass' portal remains the only one, albeit unstable."

"Very unstable…do you have any idea—"

"A perfectly good idea of what we're about to do. Mr. Somers, we must do everything we can to destroy this…End portal…everything in our power. And your service is required, as part of InSec. You joined, did you not?"

_More like ordered_, I thought. But I nodded my head painfully.

"LeBlanc is trying to open the portal the wrong way—in other words, he will have total control but it will be unstable. The results…worst case scenario, it erupts into a singularity, and—"

"That's it."

"Precisely. We need to open it…but the correct way. The reason we need the Nether is the old Nether fortress in there—you remember anything about that, Mr. Somers?"

I nodded. "Some miners went in there…few came back out, but…I remember, there should be a path there."

"Good," she answered. "The Blazes in that fortress—their blaze rods will be needed to create an "eye" that will allow us to open the portal—at least correctly. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here—get some sleep, Mr. Somers. You depart for the airfield at Brandenburg in the morning."


	22. Memories

Nothing seemed right anymore; it all seemed so unreal. The flight was long; it was nearly eighteen hours to the city of Brandenburg, and that was after my heartfelt goodbye to Song. She was to depart for Port Nova, along with the other civilians; already my heart was heavy with sadness, but my body was pulsing with adrenaline that drove out all other emotions by the time we reached the city. The pilot relayed our arrival to us by the radio, and the plane was jolted slightly as the wheels touched fresh tarmac. We slowed to a stop in the middle of the runway, and the plane shut down. It was a bad sign; we should've pulled up to a terminal. Instead, we were parked right in the middle of the tarmac.

The back of the plane opened up; being a cargo plane, seats were limited to Newell, my mining squad and ten of the InSec soldiers that had come along with us. As soon as the back opened, I stepped out into a nightmare of fire and smoke. The entire city lay to the north of the airport; thick black columns of smoke rose from the downtown, and fires could be seen licking the sky furiously from the skyscrapers, melting the glass and charring the steel and concrete as they slowly gutted the buildings. The air was thick with smoke; the sky was a dark red and heavy black clouds choked the atmosphere, casting a grim shadow over everything. This was Brandenburg; this was the hell we had entered.

"Captain Newell! Mr. Somers!"

The voice carried even over the roaring of the distant fires and the plane's engines. It turned around in a full circle before noticing the terminal to the south and the small shape running towards our plane; it was one of the terminal crew, but he was a mess. His clothes were torn and covered with soot, and a long gash ran across his forehead, with streams of dried blood caking his forehead and running down his face. He limped slightly, but seemed nevertheless overjoyed at our presence. Our greeting was far less hearty; we greeted him with silence.

"Mr…Lanton, is it?" Newell asked. The man nodded politely.

"Carl Lanton, at your service…vice manager of Brandenburg National Airport…well, once. I'm no longer that man. Things have changed here in Brandenburg…besides the obvious." He pointed at the burning skyline and the ashes falling gently onto the tarmac. I noticed now the thin layer on the ground; the plane's wheels had carved a path through them, one that was now filling back up.

"I apologize that you were unable to take a plane straight to Trojan Pass. But you've arrived at the closest airport—come, inside. The air isn't healthy." Lanton motioned for us to follow him towards the terminal. We trudged through the ash, leaving footprints and trails behind us as our column moved towards the building. I began to cough uncontrollably; the ash burned my windpipe, choking out the precious oxygen around me and replacing it with carbon dioxide and who knows what else. The unmistakable _dunk-dunk-dunk_ of pulse gun fire echoed from nearby.

"In here, if you will…I apologize for the clutter, but…we really haven't had a chance to organize much in the past week." I realized what he meant when I stepped inside the metal doorway; boxes lay scattered everywhere, along with scrap metal, paper, expended ammo casings and some blood. One man lay on top of several boxes, his grimy sheet stained with his own blood; a few InSec soldiers sat beside the wall nursing their rations, their uniforms spattered with mud and some black, viscous fluid. Zombie blood. One large table dominated the room; I noticed burners and stoves nearby, and realized we were in the kitchen of some airport restaurant. This was their headquarters now; three other plainclothes men walked into the room, with crude chevrons stitched to their dirty, sweaty shirts.

"Captains DeLay, Coulter and Fitzjames. They're the field commanders for our resistance. All of the InSec captains either fled the city or were killed in combat," Lanton said. The three exhausted-looking men sat down in makeshift chairs, pulling themselves up to the table. I realized what it was now; it was a street map of the city of Brandenburg. All sorts of markings covered it; X's were everywhere, along with lines drawn across streets, small blue circles, and a large X that marked HQ.

"Well…this is Brandenburg, gentlemen. I'm afraid you won't be staying long—there's a way to Trojan Pass. It's easy getting in, but going through…"

"I was at Trojan Pass when it happened," I spoke up. "I know what's there."

"Ah…I see. So you survived the incident?" Lanton asked. He seemed more curious than concerned, but it really didn't bother me. We had both had our own share of problems in our lives, and neither of us seemed to be truly concerned about the other.

"I did…well, barely. Last train out of the town."

It was beginning to rush back to me. I had been there as an enlisted miner—one forced to work without pay or compensation, taken far from home for the summer to work with the veteran miners. I had been in one of the deepest parts of the mine. Sector Yankee, down close to bedrock, was where there was rumored to be diamonds. The managers of the operation were eager to please their superiors with an enormous profit, and pushed us further and further, forcing us to go deeper in search of diamonds. I hadn't dug through the wall; it was some young kid, some teenager just like me, whipped towards the goal that would never benefit him. He broke that stone brick wall with his pickaxe; I heard stories from the other miners down there with him, the ones that survived, that he was simply ripped to pieces by the cave spiders. They must've caught his scent; they had swarmed over him, through the gap he had cut, and into the tunnel. I heard the hissing, screaming and the pounding of feet long before they reached me; I ran, ran like hell, past groups of confused older miners and terrified younger ones, all clutching their stone pickaxes in fright, trying to reach the exit.

Of course I did; I reached the Nether portal in the central part of town with some of the first miners to escape. I wasn't sure what drove me; it was partly adrenaline, and just part instinct, I suppose. But I had escaped the mines; the Nether portal was the center of town, a place everyone avoided. There was something evil about it; the flashing blue lights around the clock, the dread feeling that suffocated you, tore at your feelings and ran through your blood when your approached it; the obsidian was cold to the touch, almost freezing, and sticking your hand through it would cause a chill to run through your body, and you felt like you would be sucked into that realm beyond ours. Miners went through there all the time; but they were scared, unsure of their fate that day, and they approached the portal with apprehension, even the veterans who had been working this job for months. Something happened with that portal that night; the mine had been shut up, and Sec had been called in to deal with the problem. I wasn't sure what happened with it; I was asleep in one of the homes we had been quartered in, my stomach full of hot chocolate and a bowl of warm stew before bed. The rumble and roar was a sound I would never forget; the dust was shaken from the timbers, the glass broke, and the whole world seemed to shake. I had thrown the covers off in my terror, and rushed to the window to see the portal's interior explode, blasting the area around it with a deadly shockwave and damaging the frame. The mountain began to rumble too; I didn't see it, but the wall blocking the mine entrance had collapsed, allowing the spiders free reign. They swarmed across the town as I threw some clothes on and hurried downstairs. My hosting family was nowhere to be seen; I saw people outside in the street, some of them crying, some of them running, and some of them just standing there. Those closer to the portal, they fell to the ground and began to convulse. Their veins turned blue, and their eyes began to take on a yellow hue; they shook like they had a horrible fever, groaning and screaming in agony, reaching for the sky, trying to find a light to save them from their torment. They were thrown into a fit of rage, racing towards anything living and tearing it to pieces with their bare hands; the portal had somehow corrupted them, I later discovered, and they became furious beasts, destroying anything within reach. The last thing I remembered that night was the sound of helicopters and pulse guns, and the rocking of the overcrowded train as it raced down the tracks, pursued by those corrupted souls…

"…the tunnel's about five miles long, exiting onto the old mining track…that'll take you to the Trojan Pass train yards."

Lanton's voice shook me out of memory. I returned my focus to the map; he was pointing to the very edge, where a small block of black markings could be seen.

"Getting into that place will be hell…" Newell muttered. But there was no other way in.

"No other way to get in there," I said.

"There isn't. The trainyards are accessible by this tunnel, from the terminal…it's part of the sewer network, a sewer maintenance tunnel. Once you get to Trojan Pass…well, your objective remains 'classified', so you say…nothing's classified anymore though," Lanton spat. I figured he and Newell had a bit of an argument earlier over our objective, while I was remembering Trojan Pass. I was glad I missed it.

"Well, wherever you're going…I wish you boys the best of luck."

I nodded to him. The entrance to the tunnel was in the basement of the kitchen; Lanton removed a small mini-furnace and opened a hatch beneath it. The aperture was dark, and smelled of mold; it was our tunnel.

"Your tunnel. Good luck."

In single-file, we proceeded down into the darkness, the hopes and dreams of thousands resting on our shoulders. Find the fortress—find the blaze rods. And from there, it would only be uphill.


	23. Trojan Pass

**Hey everyone! The story here is about halfway done…I'm not sure how many chapters I will have left to go, but it should be about halfway. After this story is done, I'll move on to other fanfic projects—if you're interested in them, I'll make sure to announce it in this story's final chapter or possibly before.**

**Thanks, and enjoy these next chapters and your holidays!**

The tunnel had been a long journey, but the fresh air felt revitalizing, a welcome breeze that whipped across my face and stirred the white pines looming over the exit. We had taken the old sewer tunnel from Brandenburg, evading the entrenched Sec snipers, hordes of eternally shambling zombies and the massive, genocidal machinations, the Crusaders that roamed the city streets destroying anything with a heat signature. Before we had left the city, we had stocked up on some basic supplies—torches, a few new pickaxes, ammunition and food—and were sent on our way by Lanton, who had given us a topographical map of the region. We had arrived now outside of Trojan Pass—the one area I had sworn never to return to. But here I was, outside of the old trainyard, the cars of diesel, redstone dust and other materials still standing two years later, mostly untouched by the elements. We stood on a small ledge, overlooking the tracks leading down south towards the Brandenburg meta-station. A few crows flew over the abandoned station, but other than that and the wind, silence reigned.

"Lanton mentioned that the Brandenburg Oil Refineries had been bombed," Newell said, surveying the forested, abandoned landscape ahead of him. From the south, behind them, a massive wall of thick smoke took the place of clouds, looming over the city. Some ash fell, even here; it was not nearly as thick as it was at the airport, but I could detect it, and my throat became scratchy. To the west, on the other side of the town, a massive mountain of thunderheads rose, their distant booming adding an eerie auditory feeling to the ruins. Between the smoke from Brandenburg's raging fires and the storm approaching, the sun had been completely blotted out, and less light filtered through, adding to the feeling of dread I felt approaching the town.

"So?" Tar asked, grimacing as the light poked through the clouds slightly and shone brighter. The thunder still rumbled in the distance.

"Boy, all that toxic shit's gonna spill into the air. We're gonna need some gas masks soon—there's all kinds of chemicals at the Refineries, not just crude. Let's search the town for supplies while we're headed for the portal."

Newell led the way down a steep, rocky path to ground level with the tracks. We all followed; Wil, Tar, Jeff, the InSec soldiers, and a few militiamen Lanton had granted us. He had been in contact with Administrator Collins; she had ordered Lanton to give us air support. Unfortunately, she wasn't aware that all of the Brandenburg air defense force had long been disbanded due to lack of fuel and pilots. We were on our own now.

"How are we going to do this? Go in one group, split up?" I asked Newell. He turned to me.

"Somers, you're the one who knows this area best. Perhaps you lead one group, I lead another? We need supplies too, as well as getting to that Nether portal…we'll need to split up. You got any ideas of where to search?"

I pondered the idea for a moment; I tried to remember the landmarks from my brief stay. Helicopters may have hit parts of the town during the crisis; I feared that old landmarks I remembered were no longer present, and may mislead our search parties.

"Hmm…there's an old watermill that straddles a branch off the Sanian River…and then there's the trainyards, and the Holy Pickaxe church. That's all I know of," I said.

"Alright then, we'll take any route available to us. Somers, you take the militiamen and Wil there. I'll take my InSec—you other two miners, at least the one with that hunting rifle, get to a high point and provide cover for us. Preferably the trainyard water tower." Newell pointed to the rusty old water tower rising above the station.

"Looks like a ticket to a quick death," Jeff muttered, staring at the rusted supports. Nevertheless, he proceeded that way, with Tar carrying his heavy pickaxe walking behind him, scanning the broken down buildings carefully. Newell headed in his own direction; my men gathered around me.

"Well Nat…it's just us now. You know this place the best, 'cause of your experiences…" Wil trailed off.

"Yeah. We'll head to the other road, on the east side of the train station. We can head to the church," I said. The militiamen nodded their heads in mute agreement. Hefting the SMG over my back, carrying it on my shoulder, I led them down to the tracks and into the station area. We moved inbetween the cars, trying to find an access route to the street. The station's interior was dark; I could see through the grimy windows, just barely. I couldn't see anything else, though; that's what bothered me.

"I need a light—"

Wil handed me a torch from his pack. I grabbed the candle by its shaft, and jammed it into the dark doorway of the station. The light from the dim fire lit up the interior just enough, so that I could see the pale skeletons, broken furniture and scattered luggage around. The last remnants of the scramble for safety, the desperate exodus that had choked this station before the corrupted attacked it. I felt a surge of pity and horror for these people, including the smaller skeletons, those of children and infants, their bones still cradled in those of their mothers. Spent rounds lay everywhere, some of them embedded in skulls. They must have become corrupted; there was no difference in their bone structure. It was only on the outside that they changed.

"We'll head along the street. Search as many houses as you can, but be careful," I ordered. The militiamen fanned out, but stayed relatively close to me. They were nervous; there was something about this place, besides the fact that there may be dozens, hundreds of corrupted still lurking in the dark buildings. Something else, an evil I had only felt back at the stronghold. A very powerful evil.

"Vantage point—secured," my radio crackled. It was the cheery voice of Jeff. "I've got you covered, Nat, you can count on my bullets if you can't count on yours—"

There was a sharp crack; I recognized it as the resounding of the hunting rifle. He had spotted something.

"Eh…corrupted in the window. Stupid enough to show his face to me," Jeff laughed. Then silence fell again, save the growing rumbles of the bellicose thunderheads. We continued on, out into the street. As the militiamen checked houses, Wil approached me.

"Well…haven't had much of a chance to talk since those…events…" he hesitated as he talked. He was nervous too.

"Hell, I never expected any of this to happen. I'm honestly surprised you're still by my side," I said.

"Heh…don't be. I'll stick by you 'till hell freezes over!" There was pride in his voice; he was proud to be my ally.

"Proud to be my friend?" I asked him casually.

"Hell man…we stick together, no matter what happens. You, me, Jeff, and that drunk guy with the huge pickaxe—"

"Tar," I chuckled. He was drunk, and he did have a huge pickaxe.

"Ah, Tar…we're always a group, ever since Delta."

Another shot rang through the air. It was Jeff again.

"Damn things…shouldn't have fired that first shot, they're walking out into the street from open doors—"

"They react to sound, Jeff," I hissed into my own radio. "Try not to shoot unless you absolutely have to."

"Define absolutely—alright, I'll only cover you. But my trigger finger's itching…"

The gunfire had stopped. It was all silent again. Pressing on, Wil and I proceeded down the street, as the militiamen rejoined us. Our footsteps were the only sound that we made; I could see the portal ahead, the obsidian frame with the glowing purple interior—

Except there was no glowing purple interior. The frame was all there was, with a massive crater around it. The walls of the buildings surrounding the central plaza were charred and crumbled, or completely destroyed from the blast; not even the foundations remained of the ones caught in the blast zone. But there was no portal; just the frame, sitting there, the obsidian menacing and malicious.

"Uh…Newell? We have a slight problem…"

The radio crackled, and then he responded.

"Yeah? What's up?" He sounded very casual for a man who was walking around in a deathtrap waiting to come to life.

"Newell…we're at the plaza. The portal's out. There is no portal."

Silence on the other end. No one said a word. We were stuck in Trojan Pass.


	24. Corruption

Captain Newell cursed through the radio. He began to let out a long stream of oaths, which lasted for nearly half a minute before he was quiet again.

"So…portal's not open…what do we do?" I asked him. The militiamen were all crowding around Wil and I, trying to listen to our conversation. The Trojan Pass portal wasn't open; apparently the blast had knocked out the portal inside of it, leaving only the frame and the massive crater. The frame was floating in midair above the crater, above the blasted rock and earth that used to be the town plaza. The purple energy that normally emanated from Nether portals was absent from this one; the dilapidated houses beyond it were visible through the frame.

"Newell? What—"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking…Christ…how do we activate it again?"

The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular, but I thought hard about it. There was radio silence, almost total silence, permeated only briefly by the rumbles of thunder from the approaching storm and the muffled sounds of warfare from Brandenburg.

"Flint and steel…Newell, flint and steel!" I cried, realizing what we needed. Applying fire to the inside of the portal would reactivate it without any damage to the frame.

"Huh…well, I think you're right—"

"I remember how they activated it before," I said.

"Well, we need to find flint and steel, then. I'll search the watermill, you search the church—"

"CRUSADER!"

The cry came from another party on the radio; I recognized that slightly accented voice as that of Jeff, up on the water tower. The blood froze in my veins; as if the Nether-corrupted inhabitants of Trojan Pass weren't enough, one of those genocidal Crusader machines was bearing down on us.

"Crusader! Jeff, are you—"

"WHERE IS IT? Where the hell is the Crusader!" Newell asked, panicky and desperate. That thing would kill us on sight; both the vacuum disruptor cannon and the dual miniguns would be enough to bring down the entire town.

"It's—coming down the railroad tracks! It hasn't spotted us—try to get inside somewhere!" Jeff cut out. I did a double-take to make sure the water tower was still standing; I saw two small shapes taking cover at the top, dropping out of sight. Tar and Jeff were alright.

"Somers, we're heading for that watermill, double-time…find your men some cover, and try to get to that church! And avoid that damn Crusader!" He cut out as well. It was just us now; bearlike, rugged Wil and the three terrified militiamen standing at my side, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Alright…down the street—"

I hadn't even finished my sentence before they sprinted towards the nearest houses; they were more afraid of the Crusader than anything that lurked inside those dark abodes. It would be useless to try to recall them; the corrupted were already starting to stir thanks to Jeff's gunshots earlier. I figured it'd be better for us to take shelter now and slowly make our way to the Holy Pickaxe church. I motioned for Wil to follow me into a two-story home, whose door hung ajar. As I could hear the sound of the Crusader approaching, the metal clanking and the feet smashing apart the rails, I closed the wooden door and bathed us in darkness.

The torch evaporated the darkness, jammed into the wooden wall of the entryway. The inside was dark and desolate; furniture lay scattered along with papers and extinguished torches. A skeleton lay slumped over a moth-eaten red couch, with bite marks on his arms and ribs. The man had been eaten alive by the corrupted. I avoided looking at the gruesome body and walked carefully towards the dusty stairs, checking every single corner for any sign of corrupted. The house had been long abandoned; articles of clothing lay scattered on the stairs, evidence of a last, desperate attempt at escape by the family who once lived here. There was a door at the top of the staircase; I could see through the broken glass at the center it was all dark up there. Carefully, making my footfalls light, I advanced up the steps, leaving Wil on the first floor. Gently, reaching out for the knob, I opened the door bit by bit. It still creaked on its hinges, but not enough to wake anything. I still couldn't see; putting up a light would arouse any corrupted that might have been in there. Step by step, feeling my way through; the dust began to shake out of the rafters as the noise of the Crusader became louder and louder, rattling the house. I took another step, and my foot landed in something very wet, and clammy. And that very wet and clammy thing began to get up.

"Ooh shit…oh shit—"

I dropped the SMG and fumbled with my sword. The noise of the weapon dropping must've wakened the corrupted; it rose up into the dim light drifting from the first floor, and I could see its contorted facial features. Its skin had lost all color, becoming grey and dull. The most pronounced veins had turned purple on its body, the effect of the Nether portal's corrupting powers. Its eyes were all iris, pure white with veins of purple creeping in, and the person's teeth had grown into three-inch long fangs that dripped goopy saliva. The thing howled at me, a bloodcurdling screech as it raised its claws for a strike. The sound could've been heard a mile away; I swung my sword wildly and tripped down the stairs, hitting my head on the banister as my body rolled down to the bottom, dragged by the momentum of my pack. With the agility of a cat, the corrupted leapt down after me, fangs and claws eager to tear into flesh. If not for Wil's well-placed shot, I would've been dead; his shot stumbled the creature so that it collapsed onto me, rolling over my body and slamming into the wall. The noise of the Crusader was growing unbearable, drowning out even the gunshot. I put a boot to the corrupted's face, crushing its teeth and breaking its jaw, smashing through flesh and muscle with ease. The Crusader was outside; I could hear the whirring of the miniguns powering up; heard the creak of a door hinge as the backdoor to the house opened; felt the wooden floor slide beneath my back as a strong hand grabbed the nape of my shirt and hauled me onto soft grass…

The house exploded. So many bullets driving through the walls caused the upper floor to collapse, crushing the corrupted. The Crusader fired relentlessly into the house, creating new bullets out of magma cream stored in huge amounts in the tanks on its back. I saw that one, red glowing eye on it as I was dragged away, saw the massive tanks, saw the dancing light from the miniguns as it honed in on its target, trying to destroy anything living. A splash of cool water hit my face; I realized that I was in a shallow creek, with only small puddles of dirty water spread about. The Crusader had finished its homicidal rampage and had continued on down the street, content with its job. But the thousands of bullets it fired off had awoken the horde. As if they were a single entity, every corrupted in the town screamed in their fury, their howls of rage bouncing off the hills and filling the air. I pissed my pants, felt the warm urine run down my leg; I knew we were about to be screwed.

"Come on, get up Nat, we don't have time—"

Wil was panicking. He had managed to drag my half-conscious body into a stand of trees to avoid detection from both the Crusader and the corrupted. Driven by some primal urge inside me to survive, I threw my body up, resisting the weight of the pack, and grabbed a pine tree for support. I felt a clap on my back as I turned around to face Wil.

"Thank God…the church?" he asked. I pointed to a small stone building about five hundred yards away.

"Alright…let's go!" Wil cried with charisma. He began to dash for the church as the Crusader began firing its miniguns again. I saw one of the militiamen run out of a house, spot Wil, and begin to run towards him, trying to follow. Summoning all the strength I had, I followed them both, my focus fixated on that church. I heard Jeff firing as much as he could, his hunting rifle registering even over the screams and the miniguns roaring. The air rushed by my head; I could feel it whipping through my hair, through my clothing as I came closer to the church…

A hand grasped my ankle. I flew into the dirt, hitting the hard packed ground face first. Turning around, adrenaline blazing through my body, I threw a punch at the corrupted, knocking it off me. The sword was whipped out, and the head was off the creature before I even really knew what I was doing. Blood spurted from the stump as it clawed furiously at the air, and toppled back over, staining the dry earth with the purple liquid flowing from the decapitated neck. I ran, carrying the sword with me, running into the parking lot of the church. The doors were opened; the militiaman was running inside, Wil beckoned me…

I leapt at the last moment, into the church. The doors were shut tight, Wil grunting as he forced them to close and locked them. Even in this sacred place, the chaos outside could still be heard, permeating the stone walls and the heavy wooden doors. Light streamed through the single window over the doors, overlooking the giant pickaxe engraved in the far wall and the pastor's stand. A few corrupted lay here and there; before they could rise up, we slaughtered them all, hacking off their heads in quick, successive blows and letting them thrash and claw before going near them again. There was a door in the back, possibly leading to a storage room.

"A closet? Maybe there's—"I cut off, rushing for the door. Wil stood there, looking dumbfounded at the bodies all around him. The militiaman couldn't say anything; he was standing at the door, grasping his SMG absentmindedly. His mind may have been absent after all of this; he may have just gone insane. But I found what I was looking for; in a chest in the back room, I found a shining assault shotgun, forty shells for it, a skeleton clutching a 9 mm, some torches and a flint and steel.

"Flint and steel—we can reactive the portal!" I yelled, forgetting that I was not alone.

"Yeah…we can reactive the portal," Wil said sarcastically as the miniguns started up again. We were gonna have a hell of a time getting out of here.


	25. To the Nether

I was always more of a calm one in situations—I was able to think, to move, in the situations I had gotten myself into since arriving at New Jamestown. But now, I was really beginning to panic—my allies were on the other side of town, we were isolated, and both a Crusader and a horde of corrupted were outside of the church. Things had already gone to hell, and we weren't even in the portal yet. I was desperately trying to find an answer to our predicament, but my radio buzzed before I could think of anything.

"Somers…Somers? Are you there? If you are, please respond—"

"Captain Newell? This is—"

I was cut off almost instantly.

"Oh thank Notch!" Newell cried, laughing almost insanely in the radio. He was overjoyed that I was alive. "You're alive…fuck…we're trapped in the watermill, we're surrounded…if there's any alternate way out, we need to know right now!"

I could hear slamming and screaming on the other side. They didn't have much time, I had to think fast.

"Ok…uh…"

"We need to know NOW!" Newell screamed.

"I'm thinking—is there a basement there, anything like that? A hatch, trapdoor?"

"Yeah…there's a cellar, but no door!" he replied.

"Just go into it! Buy yourself some time, there might be sewer access in there!"

The radio shut off momentarily. I furiously scanned the church, looking for a cellar door or an access hatch.

"Wil!" I screamed. He turned to me, whipping his head around. The militiaman was holding the door; fists pounded on it furiously, the corrupted trying to break the door and get inside the church. The large wooden beam across the latch definitely helped hold the door steady.

"Wil, I need you to look for something, a trapdoor in the floor, any cellar or sewer access—"

I tripped and fell before I could finish my sentence. My face hit the stone floor, and I could feel my nose break as I hit it at full momentum. I groaned, rising up and looking back at my foot. A small brass knob stuck out of the otherwise flat floor, coated with a fine layer of dust. Reaching as far as I could, I grasped the knob and pulled up, revealing a huge cellar down below. My radio clicked back on.

"Alright, we're in the cellar—there's a main drain here, I don't—"

"Head into it!" I yelled into the radio. I had access to the main drain as well; it would head straight for the crater at the center of town, where it would break off right beneath the floating portal. The flint and steel as well as the Ender Pearls bounced around in my backpack; the shotgun was slung over my shoulder, replacing the SMG I had dropped in the abandoned house a ways back. I looked around the room for supplies; Wil followed me down the ladder, stepping roughly onto the packed floor.

"Where is this? Is there a way out of here?" he asked, glancing around the room. There were no skeletons here, just dust.

"That way," I said, pointing to the large tunnel leading out of the cellar. There was just a tiny spot of light at the end, at the center of town.

"The main sewer runs through here. It should end up at the portal, where the blast destroyed it," I said. I opened up the double chest in the room, and was greeted with the holy grail of supplies.

Forty potions lay in there, neatly organized and even stacked in some places. There were at least four bottles of antibiotic pills, nearly ten clips of SMG ammo, a bow and a full stack of arrows, three stacks of torches, and a stone sword. My jaw dropped in awe as my eyes moved to the back. Wil saw it too; as the militiaman dropped into the cellar, Wil walked up to me and gazed in awe at the weapon. There sat an untouched M95 sniper rifle, its stainless steel barrel shining even in the low light of the cellar. I picked it up from the chest; it was heavier than the shotgun even, weighing at least ten pounds by my estimate—I wasn't exactly sure. It was a helluva gun; Wil stretched his arms out, as if begging for the weapon. I sure as hell couldn't have held that thing; he took it, throwing the strap over his shoulder and holding it tightly, as one would a child.

"Damn…an M95. Those church guys knew what they were doing," Wil smiled, patting the rifle. I took half of the delicate potions, slipping them into secure places in my pack. Wil took the others, and we divided up the torches, the antibiotics and the SMG ammo, leaving the bow and sword.

"Never thought I'd see potions. Even out here," Wil muttered, stowing away two Potions of Regeneration. They were indeed rare; along with alcohol and methamphetamines and their lot, potions were illegal in all 3S lands—but not in Sania.

"Smuggled to Sania, probably."

"Big business to be done—the Sanians lack some of the ingredients to make them," Wil agreed with me. The cries and the bashing on the door drove us to move; one by one, we headed down the sewer tunnel. My radio buzzed.

"Newell?" I yelled hopefully.

"No, no, this is Jeff—and a badly wounded Tar—we're at the crater hiding—they're swarming over the Crusader, I bet you have about a minute before they start to realize our presence—"

He cut out, and was replaced by Newell.

"Somers! We're almost at the crater! Hurry, if you're still there!"

He cut out too. I felt the pressure rising, felt my blood and adrenaline pumping. Overhead I could hear the pounding of metal on the ground, the screams of the corrupted. They had occupied the Crusader, despite its advanced weaponry. It wouldn't be long before they realized we were here, and go after more edible prey.

"Somers, we're here, where the hell are you!"

"Nat, we're going to head into the crater, we need you to get here!"

I dashed out into the sunlight, feeling the warm air flowing down into the crater. I could do a pull-up into the Nether portal from here; jumping up, I raked the flint and steel across the obsidian, spewing fire everywhere. The fire began to take a new shape, roaring and engulfing the portal. It turned portal as a sudden cold wind extinguished the rest of the fire and swept the crater, drawing the corrupteds' attention to us. The inside became a viscous purple vortex, the noise of a thousand damned souls reverberating inside the crater, the evil of so many hellish monsters escaping into the overworld. I saw three distinct groups leap into the crater; Newell and his masked InSec, Jeff, Tar and another militiaman, and the corrupted, now realizing that we were present. I waited not a moment longer; I pulled myself up into the portal just as Jeff did so, his hunting rifle slipping off his shoulder. As I threw my body up onto the frame, I was sucked into that purple vortex as the world swirled around me and blackness overtook me.


	26. Dead and Alive

Eternity spun around my head. It seemed like forever, the warp from one dimension to the next. My entire existence was torn apart and then reformed into the same matter before the purple mass of energy vomited me out onto the hard-packed, warm mud of the Nether. My head was still spinning, rendering me incapable of movement for a few moments before I was finally able to get up on my feet. The shotgun was lying on the ground, but my worn pack was still attached firmly to my back. Dazed and nauseated, I tried to plant my feet into the ground firmly and gain my balance. And that's when everyone else came.

They flew out of the portal—they were vomited out of it, tossed into me, knocking me back to the ground. My nose was already broken after landing hard back at Trojan Pass; I felt my arm break beneath the weight of so many other men. I could not cry out in pain, as my face was shoved into the stone ground.

_Wait? Stone?_

I tried to lift myself up, despite the mass on my back. Cringing against the pain in my left arm, I used my right to crawl out from under the groaning mass and get to my feet again, still dazed. The floor was indeed stone; there were torches in the four corners, and chests along the walls. Some beds and a small kitchen area were visible through a door on the right hand side.

"Where the hell…did we…end up?" I gasped, holding my broken arm. People were starting to rise back up, moaning and cursing. Newell struggled to get up on his feet, with the combined weight of Wil and Tar on top of him. None of us noticed the zombie pigman standing in the corner, watching us warily. By the time I had noticed him, I was thrown back against the wall of the compound, hitting it hard. I heard another crunch in my left arm; something else had broken. The pigman's psionic powers were unbreakable; he held me fast against the wall, as I struggled desperately to get out of his grip.

_This is the end_, I thought; sweat dripped down into my eyes and stinging them. _I've come to the realm of the dead just to die_.

"Nat! NAT!" I heard the cries from Wil, but he was helpless as well; the pigman focused all of his psionic energy against the men too, holding them down to the floor with the invisible energy. I was waiting for the end, closing my eyes. The pigman was coming closer, I could smell his fetid breath on my nostrils…

"So…this is the Somers the prophecy speaks of. I had a feeling you would arrive."

The pigman's voice sounded like bone scraping on bone, a harsh, rough voice signifying old age and weariness. There was no sword driving through my flesh, no claws tearing me. The pigman still held me up to the wall; the other men were breathless, waiting for something to happen. Then he released us; I fell to the ground, landing hard, and the other men heaved deep breaths, trying to rise back up.

"Nat Somers. The one who would restore balance to the world…I was expecting your presence but—I didn't know you would bring company." The pigman eyed the others.

"You…you…how—"

I was speechless. He shut me off with a flick of his hand.

"I know what has happened, and what is happening. I know that some of my misguided brethren are hunting you, fighting for some of your race. But I assure you I am not here to harm you," he spoke, his voice becoming less and less grating and threatening.

"Can I trust you? How can I trust you? What's to say you're not lying?" I picked up the shotgun again, holding it level to his head. He made no movements, but took a long, deep breath.

"Because, Nat Somers, if I wanted you dead, you would never have gone through that portal. I opened this side, because I knew you were coming through. If it weren't for me…well, that shall remain unsaid." He gestured to the chests around him. "Please, resupply yourselves. The corrupted souls opposite this waypoint in time and space alerted me to your presence. I can still feel them now—the misguided, that's who they are. Simply misguided," he chattered to himself. We were still leery of him; but every man came to a chest, and opened it, searching for supplies.

"Holy shit…this was the 3S Nether Outpost…" Newell was in awe. I trudged over to his chest, lances of pain shooting up my broken arm, and saw what he was looking at. An enchanted iron sword lay in there, glowing blue, along with six potions of fire resistance and a shiny, unused RPG-9 with a laser-sight, all untouched.

"Damn…they were packing heat," Wil muttered, himself awestruck but injured in the fall.

"Human weapons…crude and inefficient compared to the Nethes that runs through our pigman blood, but useful to your people I assume," the pigman spoke. "My name is Sirius—my apologies for my inhospitality so far."

"Sirius…that's alright. We've had far worse receptions on our path," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I heard Tar mutter "Damn right," under his breath, but Sirius was unable to hear him. He smiled.

"You appear to be well-versed in the arts of hospitality, Nat Somers. The prophecy speaks truth, always."

He kept referring to this prophecy—something to do with me, I assumed from the context, but I wasn't sure what.

"Prophecy?" I asked him, as I heard Newell lift the RPG out of its case and Wil and Tar gasp in awe. "What is this prophecy? Does it have to do with me and these…Endermen?" I asked.

"It does, true. We pigmen have always had the prophecy—it spoke of one who would restore balance to the universe. There exists the overworld and the Nether—the two parts of the universe. These Endermen—have you met them?" Sirius asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jeff answered, sauntering up to me with his fancy new M95. I affirmed with a simple nod.

"Ah…these Endermen you have run into, they are not of any natural realm. They are part of the perverted third part of this universe that was never meant to be created. They come from "The End", which is unnatural, unlike our two dimensions. The prophecy speaks of one who would destroy their dimension and return balance and harmony to the universe—essentially, you, Nat Somers. The prophecy makes reference to you."

I lost track of what Sirius was talking about. I was confused—they had a prophecy about me? I never believed in any prophecy bullshit—the ones about 3S ascending to the heavens, and the people becoming Notch's guardians in their afterlife, and how the earth and the nether would fall apart in the Grand Cataclysm—but this seemed all too real. Part of it had come true—I had faced the Endermen, and had come to the Nether, and Sirius seemed to speak the truth. He also seemed to know that I doubted him.

"You doubt me, Nat Somers. I am not surprised—one would not take something like this so lightly, never. I will lead you to my village, and you may speak to Elder Cassius about your prophecy. But first, follow me."

Sirius led the way into the bedrooms of the old outpost. They lay as they did when the portal collapsed; the beds were made, glasses of water were on the tableside—everything was prim and proper. Sirius forced open a chest beside one of the beds and drew out an enchanted sword. But it seemed beyond enchanted. It glowed with a ruby-red fury, the bright red shine equaling the light of the torches.

"This sword belonged to my elders—they used to hunt ghasts for their tears, which can heal any wounds. I can heal any of your wounds once we get to my village—but this sword belongs to Nat Somers. He will make great use of it on his journey. Come, Elder Cassius awaits." I took the enchanted sword wearily, feeling the heat from the mysterious magic inside of it. Sirius led the way out of the outpost, opening the door for our meager group. One by one, we filed out of the building, into the fiery, furnace-like wasteland that spread infinitely before our eyes.


	27. The Pigman Village

**Wow…November hits for this story have far exceeded 2,000. I don't know how this compares to most other MC fanfics, but thanks for all the hits and reviews! Without further ado, Chapter 27!**

Sirius led the way down the Netherrack path, along a cliff. The seas of lava boiled down below, shooting molten geysers of fire twenty feet in the air, fueled by the long, goopy streams of magma flowing from wells in the earth and from the ceiling of the Nether. The heat from the lava reached even up here, where it had no presence; thankfully I was wearing only a grimy T-shirt and my InSec armor suit, which allowed for airflow and helped keep me cooler.

"Sirius…what is this sword?" I asked him. I was behind him as he led the way down the path.

"That sword has no name, but as I said, it belonged to the elders, and anything belonging to the elders is considered sacred in our society. I assume the same goes for yours?"

I affirmed that, even though it wasn't true. Better stay away from any potential argument with him over culture differences. I heard a squish behind me and saw Wil step off the path into some gooey, mushy sand. That had faces in it. I almost jumped off the path, swearing.

"Do not step on the sand," Sirius ordered, not even turning back to face us. He had heard the sounds; either that or he was psychic. Considering what he did at the portal with his psionic powers, I wouldn't be surprised if he was psychic. "The sand…does not appreciate your foot."

It sounded more like a joke, but I began to realize that he wasn't kidding. The faces in the sand were frozen in howls of horror, and had begun to contort into rage and fury as we stepped into them. I almost swore I could see a hand beginning to materialize out of the soul sand, but Wil withdrew his foot in a split second, and the disruption disappeared, to be replaced by the faces in their agony.

"The souls of the damned rest here, in their torment, consumed within the sand. It would be wise not to wake them from their eternal slumber," Sirius spoke, then continued to walk. I saw that he carried a wicked blade by his side, strapped to the ragged, torn pants he wore. That, plus his psionic powers, made him one hell of a fighter.

"So…I'm sorry to bombard you with questions—"

"I'm sure you're full of them, Nat Somers. Please, ask away—confusion can be remedied by questions," he replied stoically.

"Those pigmen—the ones we saw in our dimension, back in New Jamestown…why were they killing us? Why aren't you, then?"

Sirius sighed deeply—I could see sadness in those necrotic eyes as he turned back to me.

"They are misguided souls, lost to the whims of money and glory—things we pigmen have no use for, but things that have corrupted your race beyond hope. They fight for the one we call LeBlanc—the ultimate personification of greed and evil, who lured our youth to his call, those who believed that glory could be gained from fighting for him—they are misguided, those ones. But the others—"

"The others?" Wil blurted out, stepping in the sand again. It began to shift and stir.

"Don't step in the sand," Newell hissed just as Sirius reminded him harshly not to. "There are others—elders, far more powerful than the young, who believe that they can gain power in our dimension by fighting in the other one and controlling those youths. They…they are not misguided. They have no souls." Sirius no longer seemed sad, or upset; he cast a look of pure evil up to the vapors of the ceiling, then motioned for us to follow once more.

"Come. We are almost to my village. Around the bend here…"

We came to the edge of a cliff, looking down upon a plateau closer to the lava, and connected to another, more distant cliff by a hazardous-looking bridge.

"U'kua'kathua. My village, my home, my life," Sirius spoke proudly. "Follow onwards—Nat Somers is welcomed by my race as the Restorer." I led the way down the steep nether brick stairs to the village gates, made out of nether wood—exclusive to this dimension, stark, block and rocky. Pigman guards stood atop the towers, armed with nothing—no bows, not even the golden swords pigmen warriors carried into battle in the legends.

"No bows?" Newell asked as he passed Sirius.

"These guards are trained to use their Nethes in battle."

"Nethes?"

"All will be explained by Elder Cassius. Follow Nat Somers, human warrior." Newell was taken aback, but he went down the stairs anyway, followed by his loyal InSec soldiers. The gates were opened before me; the pigmen atop the towers watched curiously as I passed through, and suspiciously as the others walked through behind me. Apparently the welcome was extended only to me.

"Ah…the Nat Somers that the prophecy speaks of. He has come to our dimension seeking…the blazes. Am I correct?"

The voice was even more grating than that of Sirius. I saw in the town square a mass of old, young and baby pigmen gathered around a stooped, gray-skinned pigman carrying a walking stick, with a nefarious, golden, double-bladed bastard sword attached to his back.

"Ah…"

"I am Elder Cassius," the pigman cut me off. "I know you have many questions…I can sense them, Nat Somers. Come, now…and are these others…are they your companions?" He did not use the word friends, rather companions, as if they were simply my travel escorts.

"They are my friends, and my closest allies," I seethed, angry at their treatment of Wil, Newell and the others. I could tell the elder was taken aback, but he did not say anything about it.

"Well then…please, follow me. As soon as you are finished, you will have to set out on your journey…to Z'ak'anthaz…"

The elder moved slowly towards a further gate, one that faced a sea of lava. He pointed in the distance…at first I was unable to see what he was pointing to, but slowly the massive pillars, bridges and towers became clear. It was a Nether fortress.

"The Nether fortress is your destination. Come into my house, and prepare yourselves for the trip. It will not be long, but it will be arduous. Come."

He motioned to me first, then to my friends. One by one, we followed Elder Cassius into the small, nether wood house in the center square, the other pigmen watching us intently, leaving Sirius and the rest of that fiery domain behind for the moment.


	28. Universal Dissent

"Ah…please sit down. I'm afraid that my dwelling has little of the comforts that your race is accustomed to."

Elder Cassius offered us all seats on the floor, sitting around a charred firepit. With a wave of his hand, the elder pigman forced the pit to burst into flames, out of thin air.

"I assume you have many questions for me, and time is against you in your quest…so please, let me answer them before you ask. The group of our people that is chasing you…they do not belong to me. Let me clarify that."

"Sirius said they were rogues?" I queried. Cassius shook his head violently.

"No, not rogues…lost souls. He may have said that as well. Some of the youth are simply there because they were coerced into joining. Others desired to share in the needless glory they would undoubtedly receive for fighting for the man called LeBlanc," Cassius spoke, his voice wheezy and harsh. "The elder ones…those are the ones who bother me."

"How so?" Newell asked. He was lighting a cigarette on the fire, much to the elder's displeasure. His mask was lying beside him, covered in soot and bloodstains.

"They should know the true way. The way that we pigmen follow—do not let greed or lust or hatred ensnare you. That is the moral code we live by, and that is what keeps us at peace. But these elders, the ones who pursue you, have given up on this moral code."

Cassius seemed saddened as well; he stared vaguely down at the flickering flames of the firepit for a moment, then returned to speaking.

"They coerced, or tricked, the youths into joining them, offering them what our home dimension could never offer. Thus, they have a mighty, albeit small, force at their backs."

"We haven't fought them yet—not in direct combat," I mentioned.

"But you met them before, have you not? I can still feel the elders through the Nethes…the force that binds all pigmen together. It is strong enough for elders to feel each other's presence and see where another is—in short, we know the whereabouts of one another. They know you are here, Nat Somers. They can feel your presence along with mine, in the Nethes."

"So…that's how they follow me? I know we've been tracked—"

"Yes, they know you are here. Doubtless, they are coming after you, as that is their job. The LeBlanc…he is a scheming foe, one who defies the Nethes and the balance of dimensions and tries to gain control of the End…I am getting ahead of myself. My apologies, Nat Somers and allies."

"So…what more do you know about LeBlanc? Can you…feel him in the Nethes? Does he hold a presence?" I asked.

"He does not, not as himself. But LeBlanc has power in him that can be felt through the Nethes like a wave of fire—it is blistering hot. I know that LeBlanc is trying to…has Sirius mentioned the End?"

"And how it upsets the balance of the universe?" I conjectured; I thought that was what he was talking about.

"Yes…the Nether and the 'regular' world balance one another—but this new End threw the balance off. I know not when it came to be—but I started feeling it many years ago, through the Nethes. It upset the balance…everything seemed wrong, more than usual. Some powerful entity in that dimension can connect to our Nethes, somehow; his power is simply so strong that he can feel our presence and that of LeBlanc."

"A…entity? What do you mean?" I asked. Suddenly LeBlanc seemed very tame.

"Yes…something very powerful. Beyond that LeBlanc, even with his control over your machinations of destruction. This End…I can feel LeBlanc trying to gain power over it, trying to control this entity. But the entity…it will end up controlling him. And he is unaware of this, in his lust for power. Some of you humans are so corrupted…it is a wonder you have survived this long. And I assume that this is the reason you have journeyed to the Nether? To open that portal before he opens it?" Cassius asked.

"Well…open it correctly, I think."

"Yes…the blaze rods and the ender pearls will make the eyes, and they can open the portal correctly. Of course, the entity will try to stop you from entering his dimension, but should the portal be opened by force, as the LeBlanc is attempting to do, a singularity will occur that will wipe out your dimension, erasing all hope of symbiotic balance."

There was a silence in the room. Cassius smiled briefly.

"The fate of the universe, unfortunately, hangs in your hands. You have a lot more to think about, no?"

"Well, considering that what you just said made me shit my pants—"

I cut off Newell before he could anger the elder pigman with his ignorant comments. "We had no idea that…I knew the portal would be more dangerous if opened incorrectly, but…a singularity?"

"A combination of energy and matter that will break space-time and destroy your dimension and all links to others," Cassius said grimly. "Essentially, your race's doomsday event. The end."

I shuddered at the thought. Everything was now in our hands—the human race, New Jamestown, Song, Administrator Collins…they were all relying on us, whether they knew it or not.

"It is a hefty burden. And I can feel the presence of the traitors growing stronger, coming back to their home. You must make it to the fortress alive and well—but I fear you cannot get there in time. They will be at your backs soon, Nat Somers. Very soon." Cassius was very grim now, wheezing as he spoke.

"We flee, is that what you're suggesting?" I asked him, trying to remain calm.

"No, not flee…advance in a different direction. Head to the fortress bridge—Xalautha. Our best magi and warriors guard the bridge on both ways, against the ghasts and blazes. We must make a stand there, for the sake of the universe."

"And what of you? And your people?" I asked him.

"We follow you, the prophecy speaks of following you into battle, even to the death. The route to Xalautha is short, but by the time we are ready, the fallen shall arrive. We must leave immediately."

Cassius rose up, and stepped out of the door; we followed reluctantly. Our group couldn't really be blamed for their reluctance; we had just learned that the fate of the world rested in our hands, and that we were about to do battle with elder pigmen mages that possessed powers far beyond our own. And yet we followed Cassius out the door, into the silent throng of young and old pigmen.

"Brothers, sisters, children…the time has come to face those who fell to corruption and forsook the code. We flee now to Xalautha—but our retreat will not be in vain. Follow your elder, and you shall survive, and even thrive, as we bring these lost sheep back to their pen."

Cassius was not charismatic, but not a single citizen dissented; they all followed him silently, out the gate closest to the nether fortress in the distance. A small pathway led down the cliff to the bridge of the fortress, where towers and barracks stood, consumed and guarded by a massive orb of translucent, orange energy.

"Well…here we go."

With those words, I led our ragtag group on towards the horde of pigmen, towards the fortress and towards our confrontation with the fallen.


	29. Siege of the Bridge

Our journey was relatively short-we traveled for about half an hour, on a flat plain of Netherrack, following the anxious cluster of pigmen led by Elder Cassius. The smoke and heat rising from the oceans of lava around us filled the air with the stench of fire, and the heat was almost like that of a furnace-most of us were coughing and choking on the way down. Finally, we reached Xalautha-as we approached the end of the flat plain, I saw the vast expanse of the Nether fortress spreading before me, the stark Nether brick reaching up almost to the ceiling of the Nether, and the pillars extending down to the lava sea, where they lay embedded, supporting the leviathan structure. One single brick bridge connected the continent to the Nether fortress, alone out in the sea of fire; even from our distance, I could see the milling pigmen on the bridge, amongst the small, squat nether brick buildings and tall towers, all inside some sort of orangeish orb shield that surrounded and encompassed the edge of the bridge, not entirely to the entrance of the fortress, but rather only the area that the pigmen had gathered. The group stopped for a moment, then restarted, led by Elder Cassius one by one down a steep slope and into the safety of their haven.

"Holy shit..."

"We gotta be damn crazy to fight here," Newell muttered, but we all continued onward, following Cassius. The soft, squishy Netherrack turned into hard, warm brick as we entered the domain of Xalautha. Here and there pigmen warriors patrolled and spoke in their language of grunts and coughs, directing other soldiers to their positions. There was an aura of fear; these pigmen were afraid of their lost brothers, and it showed. Mages as well patrolled the area; I could tell they were magi by the dimly glowing star scars on their skulls, and the fact that they carried no weapons. They were the ones manning the towers; they held the important positions, while the warriors were held behind in case the enemy made it to the gateway. I approached Elder Cassius as he directed a group of young women into a safehouse nearby.

"Elder Cassius? A question?" I asked him. He was level with me, eye to eye. I could see fear, and even hatred, simmering in the vague eyes of the elder

"Of course, Nat Somers...what do you wish to know? Please, if you would, make it quick."

"So...the elders we are going to face...they use magic as well?"

The fear returned to his eyes even greater; he stepped back slightly.

"Unfortunately...yes...the youths will not be trained in magic. They will be less of a problem, they are only warriors. But the elders...I fear they know magic that even I am unaware of. I fear their power is greater than mine, and greater than that of the magi who guard Xalautha with their lives."

I was going to ask him another question, but he hurried away towards a group of warriors, who were grunting angrily amongst one another. Before I could say anything else, the M95 we had found in Trojan Pass was shoved into my hands violently.

"You'll probably find a better use for this. I can't part with mine," Jeff said, tapping his worn hunting rifle. I grasped the M95 tightly, feeling the cold steel in my bare hands, relieving them of the warmth of this dimension. It was a heavy weapon; the barrel was huge, and the entire rifle was as tall as me, maybe even a bit taller.

"Figure we'll take two towers, pour some fire on them when they come down." Jeff was already heading to a far tower, holding his rifle tightly. Newell and the three InSec men had already dispersed; I lost them amongst the crowd of pigmen. Only Wil, Tar and the two militiamen remained.

"Sir?"

Wil was standing tall, waiting for an order from me. The militiamen stood by his side, along with Tar, who looked as if he were about to vomit.

"Wil-take the militia and bring them up onto the gatehouse. Use firearms, we need fire support. Tar...help guard them. We need a good melee soldier-"

"Damn right you do," Tar snarled, hefting his massive pickaxe over his shoulder. And he walked off towards the gate, disappearing amongst the crowd.

"INCOMING!"

I recognized the shout as that of Jeff, from the left tower; adrenaline beginning to flow, I rushed up the brick stairs towards the right tower, struggling against the weight of the M95, pushing past pigmen who were hurrying to their defensive positions. It took me almost five minutes to get to the top, up the endless stairs, and when I finally reached the top, I almost pissed my pants. The plain before the fortress was covered in pigmen, some with their trademark golden swords, others unarmed. I assume they were magi; I couldn't pick out the elders from the mix, but I knew they were in there somewhere.

There was a brief moment of silence after that. The hissing of the stew below us could be heard above all else before every single unarmed pigmen out on that plain raised their arms and summoned a tiny globule of light from their hands, sending them flinging towards our orb like tiny projectiles. I would soon be glad for that orb; they sailed through the smoky air towards our defenses, silently. Then, they impacted.

It was as if a thousand bombs had gone off at once; the noise was deafening; the projectiles of magic exploded against the orb, weakening it to a pale yellow color in some parts, none of them getting through. The yellow began to return to orange as I saw pigmen magi along the wall holding their hands up to the sky and speaking in their language, trying to repair the shield through their magic. The magi on the other side began another silent volley, and a hellish yell erupted from the mass as the warriors began to surge towards our defenses, their swords held high. The shine from their swords almost blinded me; I raised the scope to the horde and spotted several magi amongst the warriors, marked by the scar and their lack of weapons. Raising the M95 directly to my shoulder as the next barrage of magical projectiles hit, I aimed at the head of one of the magi and fired.

I thought the shot would hit. But at the last moment, he turned around, raised his arm with lightning fast speed, The bullet stopped in mid air; he had spotted me, and had stopped the bullet. I withdrew from the scope just as the shard of light grazed my head, taking off some hair and embedding itself in the brick behind me. They were aware of my presence now, and I was concerned about their ability to stop bullets. Nevertheless, I raised the rifle again, mounting it on the dusty wall, and took aim at one of the warriors charging at the gate. At the angle I had, they were almost straight in line with the barrel; I squeezed the trigger, fired, and hit one of the young warriors directly in the head, dropping him. He was soon trampled by his kinsmen, as several more of those light shards hit the wall below me. They embedded themselves in the wall, kicking up dust and shards of brick as they hit. Again, I aimed at a warrior, aiming for the head; squeezing the trigger, I hit another one. And then another, and another. Their mages were keeping up their constant bombardment, lining up behind their own orbs and concentrating their firepower on our shield. It was beginning to break, becoming clear in some places, and most of it was now a pale yellow, instead of a hearty orange. Our mages were forced to divide their attention between the force of charging pigmen and holding up the shield against the projectiles that never stopped. Some of our mages fired their own shards against the enemy warriors, cutting many of them down in their tracks as they ran on, oblivious to their suffering

Another shot, and I had to insert another clip into the rifle. Ducking beneath the battlements, my hands shook as I struggled to shove the clip into the back of the rifle, as another round of projectiles hit the shield. Some of them were now going through, and hitting parts of the bridge, damaging and even sometimes destroying the brick. I could hear the chargers growing louder, feel the warm air reaching through the orb again...

And the other tower exploded. I was jarred by the shockwaves as they shook my own tower, spilling a clip out of my pack and throwing my head against the wall. I rose up over the battlements to see the tower that Jeff had occupied crumbling down towards the lava, falling over the bridge as the brick collapsed and burned. All of the mages had concentrated their power on that tower; my stomach dropped as I realized that Jeff had been in that tower as it collapsed, along with tons of pigmen magi. My eyes were locked on the ruins and the bricks still tumbling over, as the dust settled and enemy pigmen began rushing through the hole the blast had created, spilling like water against our stout wall of soldiers and starting a melee.

Looking through the scope, I hit another warrior, and then realized that the enemy mages had turned the other way. They were now focusing on my tower, a white light growing in each of their hands; they were going to bring down this tower as well. Panicked, I grabbed the M95, jolting the clip out, and rushed down the stairs into the depths of the tower, fleeing as fast as possible. I lost my grip on the stairs just one flight down, and almost slipped off; luckily, I regained my balance and began to sprint even faster, knowing I only had a few seconds before they would fire. I heard the blast just as I ran for the door; I did some sort of lunge out to the brick as the beam of energy hit the top of the tower, blasting it into pieces. They had only hit the top, luckily; although my skin was stung by falling shards of brick from above, the tower itself still stood, its jagged edges pointing up at the miasmous ceiling high up from the bridge. I coughed at the dust and realized we were being overrun.

Pigmen warriors ran before me; I couldn't tell who was who. I saw Newell and his three InSec retreating back towards the main fortress, dragging an unconscious Tar along with them. Jeff was dead; I saw nothing of Wil or the militiamen yet.

And then I saw Elder Cassius, lying on the ground. The elder pigman was standing above him, raising its hand, the white shard coming into existence from out of nowhere. I had no time for the scope; point-blank, I pulled the trigger and the M95 threw me back onto the ground. The elder had no time to react; the round basically destroyed his head, blowing his skull into fractured pieces and blasting flesh and blood all over the ground, including over the elder. The dead mage toppled over backwards, while flapping its arms wildly and spurting blood all across the brick floor.

"Elder Cassius! Are you-"

I turned around to find another pigman rushing at me, its gold sword raised. I raised my own weapon, the butt of the M95, and bashed its sword away with fury I never knew I could muster, then bashed it in the face, driving it back and crushing its nose and face. There was not enough time to finish it off; I hauled Elder Cassius up; or rather, tried to.

"Elder Cassius, come on-"

"No...no...Nat Somers...must...go on...fulfill the prophecy, get into the fortress..."

Cassius raised his hand towards another enemy mage and fired three shards into its skull, killing it instantly. He was draining his own energy, bleeding from a gash across his chest, and badly bruised and beaten.

"I will...hold them off...to give you time..."

I would not hear it. Something possessed me to throw him over my shoulder and run back over the bridge. He was heavy, like a block of lead; Wil and the two militiamen outpaced me, running for their lives and firing behind me as more projectiles leapt overhead, hitting buildings and part of the bridge. Large gaps opened up in the bridge where the projectiles hit, breaking the bricks and opening cracks and gashes in the floor. I was forced to dodge the holes, leap around them like an acrobat despite the weight on my shoulder. They opened up all around me, caused by the weight of the bridge; parts cracked and fell off, the bridge began to creak and moan as the pillar below it began to fail, hit by projectiles. A hole opened up right in front of me, causing me to stop in my tracks and run around it, almost falling off the side. The weight of the Elder was giving me too much momentum; I had to run fast, but if I couldn't stop in time, his momentum would carry me farther.

The run seemed endless; finally, I reached the massive gate of the fortress. The shouts and grunts and cries behind me were fading away; but not for long. The brown mass at the bridge, convulsing in the melee, was beginning to come closer as the remaining defenders were overrun. With a last look at the horde and the flying projectiles of light heading for the gate, I hefted the elder upon my shoulder and ran up the steps into the fortress of Xalautha.


	30. Xalautha

**Getting near the end now…I've got scattered ideas for some Minecraft oneshots, but I've got a really big plan that's just getting set up. No spoilers though… :P Until then PLEASE PLEASE review these final chapters—there won't be much more!**

I almost threw out my back dragging the elder up the stairs, hauling him on my shoulder. I almost collapsed at the top, the entryway to the Nether fortress of Xalautha. Here, the hallways branched out into four directions—left, right, forward, and back to the bridge now collapsing and consumed by fire. I gently let the elder drop to the ground; he was still breathing, but it was hurried, and the blood flowed freely from the massive gash across his chest. I was out of breath, panting; we couldn't rest, not with the horde of pigmen on our tail. We had to keep going, at least stall them for a little while. Another thought plagued my mind, troubled it beyond the extent to which it was already troubled: how would we get out of here? The only entrance was now falling into ruin, as the pigmen warriors and mages of the enemy side now began streaming across the bridge in their desperate rush to save themselves and reach us.

"Christ—now what?" Newell sputtered, out of breath as well.

"There's no other way out…there's no other gateway—"

"You don't…need…gate…"

Cassius wheezed like a man on the verge of death, one brought down with a terrible sickness. He began to convulse in his dying agonies, lying on the floor of the fortress, his life leaving him.

"We don't need a gate? What? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN!" Wil roared, coming face to face with the elder. The latter breathed in deeply, and spoke.

"The…blaze spawner…destroy it once you…have…rods…it will create…portal…your dimension…"

Cassius gave out. His last breath left his zombie pigman body, broken off from the Nethes. Pity for the poor old man who gave his life for me was replaced by adrenaline as the cries of the pigmen outside grew louder. Their focus was now on the fortress; it would only be a few minutes before they regrouped and hit us in force. We needed to find the blaze spawner, and fast. Get the rods, get back to the regular world.

"Alright…we need to find that spawner…central hallway maybe?"

"Too cliché…" Tar muttered in response to my suggestion, but Newell seemed to accept it.

"Seems logical," he agreed. "No one split up. Stay together, we'll throw everything in on this gamble." Taking charge, Newell led the way down the central hallway. We all knew that if this were a dead end, it would truly _be _a dead end. We wouldn't make it back out alive; everything we had now was gambled on a simple guess.

"This way! Quickly!" Newell shouted; he and his loyal followers were already almost out of sight. I sprinted after him, having recovered my breath and strength after our short rest, followed directly by Wil. Tar and the other militiamen were slow to follow, but they ran, at a slower pace. Our thin line raced down the never-ending corridors of nether brick, past windows giving a view to the sulfurous miasma that rested above the stirring slew of lava below. I followed the patch of blue that seemed to be growing more distant, the group of InSec soldiers as they ran down the main stretch. Then, they seemed to be getting closer; I hastened my pace, hoping to catch up, not caring if the others fell behind. And they got closer, and closer, and then I realized that they had stopped.

The room was huge, almost reaching the ceiling I guessed. The nether brick walls surrounded us, the roof closed but a large middle section open to the fiery vista around us. There in the middle of the room sat the blaze spawner, just an orb of light surrounding a small metal cage with fire glowing inside of it, malevolent and great. We had reached the blaze spawner room.

"Here it is," I said, gazing up in awe at the ceiling. The orb began to convulse, the fire began to grow; it was creating its child of fire, a blaze, creating it from the very mass and energy that the universal fire exuded from its heat and light.

"Alright…get ready!" Newell shouted, motioning for the InSec soldiers to take up their positions. We needed twelve blaze rods before we could destroy the spawner; the room suddenly light up with a brilliant light as the first blaze spawned.

Every single soldier with a gun opened up on it, dropping it before it could fire at us. One of the blaze rods fell to the ground, landing on the baked brick with a solid thud. I picked it up, depositing it into my ever-heavier backpack. Someone else would need to carry the others; with the weight of the food, torches, ammo and ender pearls, I simply could not carry all of them.

Two more spawned out; the first one was easy. The SMG fire took it down in a few seconds, although it was able to fire off one shot. The other spawned behind one of the militiamen; he was taken completely by surprise, as were we. By the time my M95 was turned on the fiery beast, the hapless militiaman had been incinerated in the blast, his charred remains dashed across the floor. I pulled the trigger instantly, firing the heavy bullet straight into the blaze, killing it instantly. Two more rods, making a quarter of what was needed. Wil took the two into his relatively empty pack.

And then all hell broke loose. Three blazes spawned just as a wave of pigmen armed with swords came careening down the main hallway, still distant but still threatening. I turned my attention to them, raising my M95 to my shoulder and taking aim. I was like a robot; methodical, calculating, a killing machine.

Squeeze. Headshot.

Squeeze. Headshot.

Squeeze. Headshot.

Human instinct and reason were driven out of me, replaced by that of an animal faced with his very own death. It took me several seconds to realize that one of the blazes was right above me, preparing to fire.

No squeeze. Just a sharp pull on the trigger, blasting through the bottom of the blaze and out the top. I dodged the fiery embers falling from the exploding body, biting my tongue as they stung on where I had bare flesh. Three more blaze rods, making half our number, and still the pigmen came. My shots had little effect against the horde.

"Newell! We need heavy firepower!" I cried out. His RPG was still slung across his back, unused but smeared with a grimy layer of soot. Despite the din of the yells, the roars, the heavy breathing and the SMGs, Newell heard my call to arms, and rushed to my side, leaving his InSec troops to deal with the constantly spawning blazes. I rushed back to take his place, ignoring the pigman horde; we now had eight blaze rods, although one of the InSec troopers had been badly burned on his right arm and shoulder by one of the fireballs. We were almost there.

The sound of the RPG firing was deafening beyond anything I had ever heard before. Even the CG I had used at New Jamestown couldn't compare to the beast Newell had; his shoulder and upper torso were thrown backwards by the power of the recoil, and a thick waft of smoke and fire blasted out of the back, lightly charring the bricks below. The round flew out of the room, down the hallway, and collided with the front pigmen in a gruesome explosion of flesh, bone, blood, tissue and shrapnel, coating the walls like a lurid mosaic. The pigmen behind them stumbled, either from the shock of the explosion or from the shrapnel that cut through them, driving deep, gruesome wounds into their bodies. But yet they would keep coming.

"We've gotten!" Wil yelled, firing his SMG wildly. "Last clip!"

We were running low on ammo. The spawner had yet to be destroyed…I was only waiting for the signal, the signal to destroy it…

"That's twelve, THAT'S TWELVE!" Wil shouted, running to dodge fireballs from the nearest blaze. Newell had retreated back to us, his RPG out of ammo, his pulse gun firing wildly at the pigmen in dull, percussive bursts. We had no pickaxe that could break that spawner; they would all keep coming, would decimate us, before we even had a chance…

The enchanted sword still hung in my scabbard, still glowing red. Tearing it out like a splinter out of a wound, violently, I raised the sword in both hands, rushed for the spawner, penetrated the orb and brought the enchanted sword down upon the spawner. The properties of that weapon were far beyond anything I had ever seen; it chewed through the nether metal like a knife through butter, splitting it and even cutting into the brick. The orb dissolved; the room began to shake and bellow, dust falling from the ceiling above us. A massive vortex of light and energy began to rise out of the destroyed spawner, which was collapsing into a mini-singularity…the one that would take us home…

"Pigmen! Fall back, fall back!" Newell cried, blowing out a pigman's chest with his pulse gun as it got too close. He doubled back, with Tar, Wil and his remaining InSec at his side. The militiaman fell to the pigmen, chopped to pieces even as he ran from them. The vortex broke the ceiling, sending man-sized chunks of brick falling down to the bottom, piercing the floor. The entire fortress was collapsing under the singularity's weight; I could feel gravity loosening, the very time/space continuum of the fortress folding over, the vortex pulling me into its column of energy, I could smell pine forests, and grass, hear birds over the roar of the twister and the cries of the pigmen. The last thing I saw were my allies following me into the collapsing singularity and Xalautha collapsing into the lava below, its memories lost beneath that boiling pitch.


	31. The End is Nigh

Trapped in the vortex of the singularity, it seemed like an eternity before it vomited us back out into the real world. I landed hard, apart from everyone else; I was alone, wherever I was. Gasping for fresh air, reaching to the sky, I pulled myself up, standing up on my feet, and studied my surroundings.

Sewage lines spewed their filth across the street, mixing it with fresh water and a brownish liquid that looked like toxic waste. Rubble was strewn across the streets, towering apartment buildings were charred and broken, and cracks lined the streets, where bones and decomposing bodies littered every corner and intersection. I wasn't sure where I was; some metropolitan area, somewhere in the homeland. Looking up at a nearby street-sign, its metal pole twisted and burnt, I could barely make out the lettering on there:

_4500 West Pine St._

_Diamond City_

Diamond City. So I had finally made it. Looking out further, I saw downtown, the tops of the giant, spear-pointed skyscrapers burning and blasted. Then the massive vortex caught my eye; I should've noticed it first off, but my senses were still recovering from the dimension warp. The skies were dark, one giant black mass of cloud and energy hovering over the city, sparking pure energy from its depths. The clouds descended at one point like a funnel, its point reaching the top of the 3S Headquarters at the center of the city, its bulky mass cracked and blazing. The funnel was blue, sparking lightning and energy out of itself, and disappeared into the top of headquarters. So there was the portal-at the very center of everything. That was where I had to go.

The moans behind me alerted me to the presence of zombies. They were staggering in the dim light of the city, beginning to notice my presence. Regaining my strength, I began to run down 4500 West Pine, hoping to find some InSec or resistance base. The Crusader was almost waiting for me.

It was idle, waiting in the street, its single red eye scanning the buildings slowly, methodically. It noticed me, its advanced sensors picking up my footsteps and my heavy breathing. Its massive bulk turned towards me just as I doubled back, fleeing in panic. Better to have the zombies than a Crusader; as I heard its vacuum cannon power up, I drew out the red enchanted sword, and slashed at the first zombie. It cut through like it would through paper; the zombie was nothing, a clean swipe through the flesh, bone and muscle. Two more went like this; the vacuum collapsed, sending a shockwave through the streets that almost knocked me to the ground, and stumbled the remaining zombies, overloading their sensitive systems. I used this to my advantage; hurriedly, I outran the last three, trying to find some way to hide from and evade the Crusader. But it was stomping out of West Pine and down 4th Street, down towards me. It was charging up its cannon again; I tried to find somewhere to get down, to hide...

The shockwave hit me first. I buckled over, falling to the ground behind a streetlamp. I waited for the vacuum to explode, but it never did. I heard more explosions behind me, and the crash of metal on concrete, the sparking of electricity. Pulling myself up on the streetlight, I saw the helicopter hovering in the intersection, the Crusader burning. The smell was obvious; I could tell by the sulfur stench it had been a Omega missile, an incendiary one. The Crusader was still flaming as the helicopter touched down beside me, blasting clouds of dust into the air, and out stepped Newell, Wil and Tar.

"Here he is!" Newell called to the pilot over the roar of the helicopter blades.

"Thank god-Nat! We finally found you!" Wil pointed to my backpack. "Still have those pearls and blaze rods?"

I patted the pack again, and the ender pearls rolled around inside.

"Alright...we're going to get you to the closest base possible. Administrator Collins would like to speak to you."

Newell motioned for me to get into the chopper. Taking off, we left the burning Crusader and decomposing bodies behind, rising up over the blasted buildings and flying off.

The trip to the Inner City Base was about ten minutes. On our way, I realized how much of a war zone Diamond City had become. AA guns, friendly and enemy, fired their flak up into the air wildly at the gunships and jets that flew overhead, doing strafing and bombing runs on positions below. The roar of jets was neverending; fires licked the malevolent energy cloud above us, and scorched the streets and buildings. Toxic waste flowed freely, filling sewers and depressions with the sludge, and hordes of hundreds of zombies roamed in other places, their collective moans echoing even up at the helicopter. The ten minutes brought us to a large, octagonal building close to 3S headquarters, about a mile away. Here many of the buildings were destroyed, making the squat metal building stand out. Gunships and helicopters lifted off every few minutes, carrying supplies, missiles or troops. Jets roared past, firing off their missiles at a group of zombies getting too close to the headquarters. I was unable to see the result, as our helicopter banked sharply right and landed on one of the many helipads on top of the headquarters.

"InSec temporary headquarters," Newell yelled as the helicopter powered down and we piled out. "Collins is waiting inside, she just arrived about an hour ago. The same time we returned from the Nether."

The city was raging in the throes of war. I heard bullet fire-SMGs, pulse guns, .50 caliber weapons, sniper rifles-coming from every direction, along with the roar of jets, the roaring fires, and an assorted chorus of shrieks and screams from across the city. The only natural light could be found on the horizon, where the sun shone from beyond the city, from beyond the unnatural mass of darkness hovering above.

We proceeded into the building from a top hatch. It was almost as much of a disaster zone as the ruins outside. Bodies lay scattered across the hallways, on crude cots or simply on the floor. They were all injured, barely breathing, cared for by a skeleton staff of surgeons and nurses. Some of them were already dead; they had stopped breathing, lying in pools of their own blood. Soldiers, InSec and ragged resistance, ran through the halls, toting weapons ranging from stone swords and nearly broken bows to pulse guns and sniper rifles. Everywhere there was chaos; Newell managed to part the chaotic scene, leading our small group onwards to the administrator's temporary office station.

Inside was even worse; computers were manned all across the room, day-old coffee and papers scattered everywhere. There was even a bloody handprint on the door, and bloody footprints leading into the room. A rather frazzled looking Admininstrator Collins, her InSec armor stained with zombie blood and her hair matted, oily and bloody, stood at the main map of the city, pointing to specific locations close to the 3S Headquarters, pointing them out to an exhausted-looking InSec captain beside her, trying to understand his unit's movements. Collins noticed us a few seconds later, sending the captain out and admitting us in.

"Administrator Collins?" Newell saluted her sharply, despite his exhaustion.

"Ah...Captain Newell and Mr. Somers. I was expecting you to be here...on time," she said sharply, with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "But I suppose that timetables don't exist during civil war...anyway, does your group have the blaze rods and ender pearls?"

As Wil and Tar arrived, pushing past injured soldiers and doctors, they threw their packs down on the table and opened them, revealing the blaze rods they had brought from the Nether. Our entire collection was here; twelve total. Only problem was, we didn't have enough ender pearls.

"We have the blaze rods...but not the ender pearls-"

"We've taken care of that, Mr. Somers," she spoke reassuringly, pointing to the door behind us. There, with a case full of the remaining ender pearls, stood Song in combat gear, holding the case in her outstretched arms. Had I not been concerned with the impending doom that was about to come down upon us, this would've been the best day of my life. We were both horridly exhausted; but we still smiled longingly at one another, and a tender feeling I had not felt for weeks began to grow in my heart, replacing the terror and anxiety that had been harbored there for so long.

"We managed to get together enough ender pearls to bring the total to twelve," Collins spoke. "Combining those will make the eyes. We need twelve to open the portal correctly. Mr. Somers, I presume you know what will happen if we fail to do that?"

"Singularity," I sputtered. I wasn't very focused now that Song had arrived.

"Precisely. A singularity that will engulf our entire dimension. You all have heard this, I guess?" Everyone else nodded.

"Well then. You know the consequences of failure. Simply combine the blaze rods and pearls by driving the rods into the pearls...we haven't tried it yet, so be cautious..."

All the pearls and rods were spread out on the table. Song put the chest down on the table, letting the ender pearls spill out of it. I avoided direct eye contact with her; I felt that this would be our last goodbye, what I was about to do.

"Alright...like a knife?" Wil asked. I nodded my assent; Collins just watched nervously. He handed me the blaze rod, for fear of screwing it up; I fumbled with it for a moment, holding the glowing yellow rod in my hands, preparing to drive it down into the ender pearl. With as much force as I could possibly muster, I drove the rod home.

It sank right into the ender pearl, and the pearl's complexion began to change; it became clearer, the colors were changing to greens and blues instead of the dark purple that formed the colors of the regular pearl. Nothing else happened; it simply looked like a malevolent, lifeless eye trapped in amber, glaring out at me from the pearl. It had worked.

"Christ…it worked…" Wil stammered, breathing deeply. I suppose we all expected something terrible to happen; instead, it simply drove right in, creating the eye. Just eleven more to go after that.

Each of us took our own turn, driving the rods home into the pearls. All twelve eyes were formed; the room smelled like sulfur a bit afterwards, but the lightweight eyes were all put into my pack, the torches and food removed.

"Alright, Mr. Somers…you have all the eyes…it is time." The administrator looked troubled; she now realized that she may be sending a man to his doom. Song was troubled too; I could see her eyes as I left the room, following the administrator; they had been red from crying. She knew what to expect.

"Do you know what you are to do?" Collins asked on the way back to the rooftop. Only Song followed; the others were reluctant to do so.

"Put the eyes in, open the portal…and then the entity?"

"The entity?" She was confused; did she not know? Perhaps only Elder Cassius had told me, and she was unaware of what she said.

"Never mind…just a thought," I corrected myself. She seemed pleased enough with it, and continued leading on down the hallway.

All of us convened on the roof, returning to the sounds of battle and of jets strafing and bombing. Wil, Tar, Newell, Song and Collins were there, along with three InSec soldiers with weapons. Instead of keeping those weapons, however, they handed them to me; one of them removed my bow and replaced it with their standard issue pulse rifle, as well as a combat knife. The second one gave me several satchel charges and a Desert Eagle for close combat. The third attempted to confiscate my red sword and replace it with an SMG; I refused his offer, choosing to take the blaze shotgun instead. I was armed to the teeth, a one-man army.

"There you have it, Mr. Somers. Every weapon you could possibly need. You will be alone in there, we will not—"

"I understand," I said firmly. This was to be my mission, and mine alone. I was somewhat weighed down by the weapons, but at least the eyes were light. I approached Newell, and shook hands with him firmly, saluting him.

"Good luck, you colonial bastard," he smirked, joking with me. We saluted again, saying our last goodbyes. I moved down the line to Wil, who was smiling as well.

"Good luck out there. Come on back to the bloc if you get out of that hellhole alive," he teased, smiling and shaking my hand. I came up to Tar, who refused my hand.

"Any alcohol you see in there, bring it to me. I'm dying for some whiskey," he chuckled, holding his pickaxe over his shoulder. Then came Song; her eyes were tearing up again, as her hands shook and she began to lower her head. I grasped her lightly by the chin, lifting her head back up, and reached into the pockets of her military fatigues, withdrawing the stone I had given to her.

"Remember this?" I asked, touching the stone. She put her hand on it, nodding and sniffling.

"I promised to come back alive on this. And I will be back for you. I promise, my baby girl."

She smiled, the first time I had seen her smile since the rebellion. Every word I spoke was a lie; I knew that this would be suicidal; I saw Newell watching us, his eyes full of pity for her false hope. But she hugged me, clutching the stone tightly.

"Be back soon," she whispered, and fell back, taking the stone with her. Every man on that roof, even the InSec soldiers, saluted me firmly before I got into the helicopter. With the rotors and engine powered up, the helicopter began to lift off into the darkened sky, towards the shattered ruins of 3S Headquarters.


	32. One Man Army

The helicopter landed on the veranda of 3S Headquarters Building, the smoke and fire raging from the building polluting the atmosphere. The energy mass overhead, full of roaring thunderheads, was growing, becoming more unstable. At the center of it all were the singularity and the funnel of dark energy spreading up from it, creating the unstable mass above us that brought darkness down upon the city. The helicopter pilot said nothing; he dropped me off, lifted off, and left me alone. I had the pulse gun, the blaze shotgun, and the Desert Eagle with me. I opted for the blaze shotgun, heading into the open doorway and into the dark halls of 3S.

It was far worse than I had imagined. Wires dangled from the ceiling, sparking wildly as the power flow began to surge and then stop, thanks to the dark energy bursts emanating from the center of the headquarters. Bloodstains were everywhere; I saw bodies, charred, twisted, burnt and lacerated, all over the place, both those of Sec, zombie pigmen and regular zombies. There were some Endermen too, just a few, their shadowy black bodies still exuding those strange, burning particles of smoke that drifted into the air. All around the dead Endermen were dead Sec troopers, their bodies torn to pieces, their blood splashed across doors and walls, and pooling in great puddles on the tiled floor. Chaos had reigned. But I was a one-man army; it was time for me to do the job I had been assigned.

I rounded the corner, facing about a dozen zombies shambling pointlessly, gurgling and groaning, their claws and torn clothing flecked with blood. Some of them were Sec troopers, the last defenders of this hallowed ground; I began to feel fearless, with my happy memories and adrenaline flooding through me, creating a soldier like no other. I whipped out the blaze shotgun and fired it, spraying the hall with fire. It did not just kill the zombies; it almost destroyed their very existence, thanks to the real blaze powder the InSec had collected somehow—perhaps from when they actually had a working Nether portal. Each zombie fell immediately; I opted for the sword now, feeling power surge through my body as I wielded the red enchanted sword. More zombies, including some Sec; the sword sliced through them like they were simply more air, clean cuts that tore through bone and muscle, decapitating and disemboweling. I was a machine, a destroyer, much like the Crusaders outside; nothing could stop me, not even the Endermen who rounded the corner, their fierce eyes locking with mine, and the sword, their mouths opening in their blood-chilling screams. They could not even finish screaming before the sword whipped through them, stopping their claws in mid-swipe and felling them, blasting black smoke everywhere.

I had no idea where I was going, but the hallways were no longer organized. The walls had fallen apart, revealing entrances to places normally unreachable by the way I was traveling. All I knew was that I had to get to the center; the bodies became more common towards the center, sometimes jamming up the hallways. Gunfire still echoed through the halls; I came across a group of Sec soldiers retreating, dragging several wounded comrades. Normally, I would've felt pity for the wounded men, only trying to get out with their lives. But my senses had been overrun by bloodlust and an insatiable desire to end this all. I blasted them with the blaze shotgun, disintegrating armor, flesh and bone, every single one of them killed in the explosive shot. The zombies fell in this same way too; they, pursuing the Sec, were demolished by the shotgun, even as more of their allies rounded the distant corner, led by one of the Endermen, who promptly teleported directly into my shotgun's path. His fate was obvious; I let the remaining zombies survive, seeing as they posed no threat and would only be a waste of ammunition. I hurried faster towards the core, trying to reach it before the singularity grew to its instability point and collapsed.

"Please, please…help me…"

The Sec soldier was groaning, reaching for me, both his legs torn off. He pleaded for me, but I did not listen; he was but another victim of a war that had gone on for far too long. More gruesome scenes greeted me on the way; more zombies, dispatched with my enchanted sword, as well as some Endermen. I suffered no wounds; my adrenaline was pulsing through my muscles, forcing them to take the first strike. I saw groups of zombies devouring Sec troopers or civilian workers, tearing through flesh and muscle and devouring everything. In their mass panic, some Sec had just shot themselves; long lines of dead troopers, each with bullet holes in their helmets, lined the walls of the hallways, some of them partially eaten or burned. Horrid screams rent the air, as I watched another Sec soldier, his legs broken, being eaten alive by zombies, as their comrades, badly wounded, tried to fend off the undead with their dry SMGs. They would meet the same fate.

And on I went, slashing through zombies as they approached me. There were no more Sec troopers, at least no more which could harm me. The offices along the hall were covered with blood, and bodies lay inside; I approached one with several zombies pounding at the reinforced door, moaning and clawing at the metal. Five swipes of the blade took care of them, with ease. As I gazed through the foggy window, I saw what they were after; three contractors, hanging from cable wires suspended from the ceiling, their legs still twitching and their mouth still agape in their final agonies. At least one zombie was in there, gnawing on the femur of one of the dead contractors. Anything I would see in there would normally disgust me; but I was beyond man. I was an army.

The center was nothing; what used to be the apex of 3S was now a pile of concrete and metal rubble, with the massive singularity growing at the center where the End portal was suspended about three feet above the ground. The singularity of dark energy pulsed and grew, expanding and contracting as it became more and more unstable, filling the air with pulses of energy and feeding the antimatter vortex fueling the storm above. One body lay below the portal; approaching it, I saw an emaciated, badly wounded James LeBlanc, laying on the dirty ground, breathing heavily as the portal grew.

"James…LeBlanc?" I spoke, awestruck. The man who had attempted a rise to power now lay on the ground, powerless, unable to move. It seemed as if the very life was being sucked out of him.

"So…you…you are the one the Enderdragon speaks of…I could feel it, could feel…through the Nethes, could feel them too, all of it…I saw the universe, the stars, the light, the darkness, the good, the evil, the love, the hate, I saw it all…and it…it spoke to me…it spoke of endless power, corrupted my mind, drove me…to…insanity…and look where I am now…it…it is gaining power…it will destroy this world…without even…being in it…"

He gasped for breath. I dropped the pack, pulling out the eyes. LeBlanc's eyes widened in amazement, but he said nothing. I felt no pity for the motherfucker who had started this all, the civil war that had torn my love apart and destroyed my home. I ignored him as I began to insert the eyes into the portal, racing against time.

Eleven out of twelve…I fumbled for the last one, grasping it as the portal began to shake, the singularity above it beginning to collapse…

The twelve one went in. I forced it into the hole, driving it in with all of the force I could muster. The singularity all of a sudden stopped. It withdrew into nothingness, the vortex died. But the mass was still up there. And the earth began to shake. Not just the portal, but the very ground I stood on. I heard LeBlanc laugh his last, and whisper,

"He's…here…"


	33. Face of the Enemy

**Finally…the epic conclusion that you have all (hopefully) been waiting for. If you read this, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review, because this will be the last real chapter—so please do review. Last chapter will have a bunch of author notes and updates about my future projects if you are so inclined to read them, so stay tuned for that!**

The creature's body was huge—a massive, black scaly skin that stretched all around the bulk of the dragon. It was definitely a dragon, with giant scaly wings and a monstrous tail that crushed the collapsing building behind it. It settled on top of the portal, its massive blue eyes locking with mine. This being of time, space and dimensions was facing off against me, a farmer from the Outer Lands. The strength that had brought me through much of the complex was fading; I was now beginning to feel fear again, as the creature roared and spewed flame from its nostrils.

I dodged the flame, taking out the pulse rifle and firing at its head. The Enderdragon was hurt by the blasts, but barely; instead of attacking again, it flew up in the air, and that's when I noticed the obsidian pillars all around the building. The crystals on them shot bolts of bluish energy towards the Enderdragon, and the pulse burns on its face dissipated immediately. Those crystals were healing the beast; I had to destroy them.

While it was distracted, I ran past the dead body of LeBlanc, which had shriveled beyond recognition, and into one of the devastated hallways. Zombies were now marching down the hall, led by their Endermen leaders, who were marching towards their leader, the Enderdragon. I slew them as well, wielding the red sword with a fury matched only by my previous entry into the complex. I remembered generally where the first pillar was; I passed scenes of slaughter, of mass suicides and battles with zombies, horrors almost indescribable. I could see the obsidian pillar, growing out of the concrete streets, and began to run towards it, trying to find a way to get to the top…

I tripped over the small metal bump on the floor. It stumbled me, but I did not fall. Instead, I regained balance and picked up the metal device. It was not simply a bump; after scrutiny, I realized that it was a laser airstrike beacon. Aim the laser inside of it at anything, and it would call in an airstrike. Would the strike be friendly or enemy? And if it were enemy, would their planes even be airborne anymore? I had to take the risk. Aiming the small box up at the nearest crystal, I pulled the trigger, lazing in the target. There was no reply; there had to be a radio that came with the set. I panicked; was the airstrike coming at all? Was it on my side or their side?

The roar of jet planes alerted me to their presence before I even saw them. The missile streaked towards the crystal, hitting its target dead on. The crystal exploded, sending out a pulse of blue light that rippled through the complex, shattering what glass remained, and nearly knocking me off my feet. The first crystal was down; the planes flew by, so fast that I could not discern whether they were enemy or not. The shuffles and moans behind me gave me the catalyst needed to get my shocked body going again, racing back towards the portal. The Enderdragon was roaring with pain now, its first crystal destroyed; I headed to the other side of the complex, heading for the second crystal. Fire scorched the crater, I could hear it; the Enderdragon knew where I was, but could not get to me. Or so I thought.

The metal wall dissipated as the tail crashed through it, flicking through the hallway and smashing an office into pieces. I double-timed my run, racing away from the jagged, spiked tail as it thrashed furiously, trying to destroy me. The other side of the complex was just as devastated; aiming the laser at the crystal, I watched as the jets streaked overhead, launching their firepower at the crystal and destroying it completely, leaving nothing but the stark obsidian tower.

Two down, two more to go.

The tail tore through the beams, as the Enderdragon roared again. I could hear the beating of wings; see the ceiling beginning to tear apart, fire scorching the nearby hallways. It was pursuing me, trying to protect its only source of power. If I were to die, the threat to it would be gone, for no one could get close enough to damage it sufficiently. Racing, past slow-moving zombies and injured Sec soldiers, I found the third crystal suspended by the obsidian tower in the 3S parking lot, full of broken cars, trucks and vans that were burnt, tossed around and smashed. The third crystal was there; just as I aimed the laser guide at it, the Enderdragon's head appeared in the hole in the wall.

The burst of fire blasted through the corridor, incinerating bodies living and dead alike, as the zombies pursuing me were caught up in the flames, instantly incinerated. The laser had found its mark, however; I heard the firing of the missile, the roar of the jets, and the explosion of the third crystal. The Enderdragon stopped firing, and roared in pain, as if a part of it had been destroyed along with that crystal. I used this time wisely, racing down the corridor at full sprint while the Enderdragon was occupied by the pain. By the time it had recovered, it noticed that I had gone, had begun racing towards the fourth and final crystal. I knew it was going to try to get there and protect its last chance at survival, before me. It appeared that that would be the case.

But I saw the access stairwell, the one covered in blood with several limp Sec bodies hanging on it. I raced up the stairway, slipping slightly in the pools of blood, and jumped onto the blasted roof of 3S, with a perfect view of the final crystal in the distance, supported by its tower. Carefully, hearing the beating of wings and the roaring of the beast, I aimed the laser at the crystal….

The Enderdragon appeared right before me, but the laser went through; as the missiles went off, and the jets surged by, hitting their target, I leapt down into the stairwell, attempting to find my way back to the portal. The earth shook as the last crystal was destroyed; the beast's cries rang out through the destroyed complex, shattering what little glass remained and beating at my ears. Despite this, I ran onwards, back to the portal. And it waited there for me.

Its crystals had been destroyed. The look from those eyes that knew time and space was made of pure hatred, as the sentient thing snorted and landed, eying me. The enemy that had brought my life to ruin, by corrupting the man who had helped, was standing right before me. I drew out the red sword, raising it above my face, breathing in deep. The wing flew out before I could even see it, hitting me, knocking me flat on my back. I was able to roll over and avoid the burst of fire from its nostrils, taking cover in a crag in the ruins. I got back up, but was knocked over once more, this time by the other wing. The wind was knocked out of me; I still managed to roll and evade the flames, but the adrenaline was leaving me. I was becoming a man again, not a fighting machine, just a simple man.

_This is it. The end has come…I can't fight any longer…_

Then I felt it in my back pocket. Something rough, hewn from the toughest of rocks, poking into my bruised hip. Taking shelter in the ruins, I pulled it out of my back pocket.

The stone was heavy, but I felt it growing lighter as I remembered my final words to her.

_I will return. I promise_.

Her stone was now in my hands. She had put all her promises, secrets and love into it, and as I clenched it tightly, stowing it in the pocket again, a new surge of energy found a home inside me. I rose back up, looking the Enderdragon in the eye. It thought of me as a toy, something to play with before destroying. I was no longer a threat, just a bruised, battered soldier who had found a strange-looking rock in his back pocket. It looked like it was laughing, despite its crystals being destroyed. I don't think it ever saw my leap coming. By the time it noticed, I was already up in the air, driving the sword home right between its eyes. How I jumped that far I could not say…white men couldn't jump, everyone had said. But the sword went home, and the creature bellowed like nothing ever before as its cortex, what powered its being, was destroyed by the sword. I was blown back by a powerful blast, hitting the wall hard. As I rose back up, aching all over, the Enderdragon rose up into the air, beginning to splinter into white shafts of light, its mass and matter disappearing as it rose into the air, its last hideous cries echoing across the battered ruins of 3S. I turned to run; but the light overcame me.

Everything stopped and vanished.


	34. Face of the Creator The End

The stars buzzed around me, going at top speed. They were like tiny beams of light, whispers of a rumor long gone, floating past as if carried on a wind. I felt…alive. But what was alive? I could feel my hands, my legs, my arms, my head, my heart…but there was no pain. I was so accustomed to pain, but there was none. Not even after my final battle. Was it my final battle? I wasn't so sure…was this the end? Where was I? I knew I'd wake up sooner or later in the ruins of 3S…I was sitting in dead space, floating.

"Well, well. You finally come here."

The voice came from the man with the goatee and porkpie-like hat, sitting in fine jacket and dress shirt just like me, floating in space. I did not know who he was, but I had seen him before.

"I…excuse me?"

"Nat Somers? You are here, finally. The prophecy of the zombie pigmen speak of you…and that prophecy has been fulfilled completely," the mysterious figured spoke.

"And you are?"

"I? I am your creator…you refer to me as the 'Blessed Creator', but that sounds a little…well, kiss-ass. Please, call me Notch. I am your creator, of course." I knew the figure now—the reliefs in the local churches, of the Holy Pickaxe, of the ancient race of humans first created on earth, and of Notch, the benevolent Creator.

"So…you're the Creator? But…"

"I'm sure you're full of questions. But first off, you're dead." Notch seemed very content with my death; I wasn't sure how to answer.

"Wait…I'm…dead? Like, dead, dead?" I asked, confused.

"You are dead. As dead as dead can be, your mortal life is ended. That is the fulfillment of the prophecy."

"But…the prophecy never spoke of—"

"Of course it did," Notch cut me off, albeit rather politely. "Elder Cassius just never mentioned it to you. You were supposed to die—neither of you, neither the Usurper nor the Warrior could live. It is the prophecy." He began to twiddle his hat on his finger nonchalantly, as if none of this really mattered.

"The Usurper…the Warrior…the Enderdragon and I? Neither of us can live?"

"Of course not. To bring balance, both must die. With the Enderdragon, the End was destroyed, and balance has been restored to the universe. Sacrifices must be made to obtain balance, Nat Somers," he said.

We sat in silence for a little while. I was pondering everything, and he was playing with that damned hat of his.

"Where are we?" I asked him out of nowhere. He did not seem surprised by the question.

"In time and space, everywhere and at the same time nowhere. We exist outside of all, and inside of everything. Does that make any sense at all?" I shook my head.

"Of course. I find no sense in it either. Of course, greater beings do, but…"

"Greater beings? There's greater beings than you?" I asked him, astonished. He simply chuckled, replacing the hat on his head.

"Of course there are…I simply know the basics of the universe and about what I have created. Only this universe," he chuckled.

"Only this universe?"

"Ah, yes…there are many more universes out there, controlled by those much like myself. Intangible, indecipherable, invisible, but yes, they are out there. I know that they are. You are just one of many universes. And your time in your universe has come to an end, I'm afraid." He began to rise, leaving me where I was.

"NO!" I shouted suddenly. He stopped in his tracks as a sort of doorway opened in our little area, a white light shining from it.

"Yes?"

"Take…take me with you. Please…"

"I cannot do that, Mr. Somers," he said politely but sternly. "You are dead now. Your time has come."

He began to walk again.

"WAIT! One second!"

I fumbled in my back pocket. Sure enough, the stone was still there, protected from any marks by my InSec armor. I extended my arm to him.

"Take this, please. And—"

"Give it to her? Is this your last gasp, your last will on earth? Just for her?" Notch asked me, taking the stone.

"Y…yes. It is my will and testament to my existence. Bring it to her." I spoke, trying to remain strong. He nodded.

"I shall do it. But only that."

He began walking again, almost into the doorway.

"One more thing!" I shouted. He stopped, halfway through the dimensional door, and turned back around, pocketing the stone gently.

"Mr. Somers? One last thing?"

"Yes…am I real?" I asked him.

"Real? Are you real?"

"That's what I'm asking you. You're my creator…am I real?"

The creator himself pondered this briefly.

"You are real. And you are not real. It all depends—"

"Depends on what?" I yelled, irritated. "Am I real or not? I can't be both—"

I stopped dead in my sentence. He smiled.

"You are real if you believe that you are. If you do not believe—"

"So what if I believe that I am real? Does that just simply make me real?" I asked him, heat racing as my life neared its end.

"That it does. If you believe you are real, than this may all be a dream. Nothing more than a dream."

"A…dream?" I queried, my voice stuttering.

"Only a dream. Is it a dream, Mr. Somers?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. I was becoming so confused.

"I'm…I'm not sure…"

"This is up to you to decide. Are you in a dream, Mr. Somers?"

"Y…yes. I am in a dream," I stammered. Notch was still there, watching me closely.

"You are in a dream then…you can continue to sleep, or you may wake up. It is now your choice. I am offering you this choice."

A moment of silence. The weight of time and space seemed heavy and light at the same time.

"I…want to wake up."

"It is not what you are expecting, Mr. Somers…you expect life again, don't you?"

I did not answer.

"I want to wake up. I do not want to sleep. I want to wake up." I spoke firmly and sternly.

"Then it is settled. You must wake up…if this is a dream, you must wake yourself up."

"How do I—"

He stifled me with a simple finger to his lips, bringing me to silence.

"It is your choice. Wake up, Mr. Somers."

"Wake up."

**Well…the end is for you to decide. Confusing? Too simple? Too intricate? Just a perfect ending? Let me know by PM or reviews for this final chapter! Also, announcements for a new project I will be doing! Or, rather, new projects…**

**But first, a shoutout to other Minecraft fanfics. All of you reading this right now, if you haven't already, ready Xguy110's "Minecraft Adventure"…trust me, it's not at all cliché or boring, it's one of the best stories I've read on this site…and also read the complete, yet still twisty and intricate "Trapped", by E3kHatena. It's an older one, but it's still the best fanfic on the site to date—I can't judge my own. That's up to you guys. Also, to everyone who reviewed up to this point, thank you so much for reviews as well as 3,500 hits total for this story! **

**I have some smaller Minecraft oneshots I might make someday, nothing big or bold, but I'm moving to a fanfic site called ""…trust me, it's not too smutty, just some of the stories…where I plan to write about one of my favorite music groups, Korean SNSD, and combine them with some sort of deviant Left 4 Dead/Half Life storyline involving good ol' boy Adrian Shephard—for those of you who know him or have played Half Life: Opposing Force, you know this guy. And for those of you who haven't played Opposing Force, buy it. It's on Steam, and it's cheap. No excuses. Yeah, it'll be epic—rated M(they call it H for adult content) for possible future girl/girl relationships—SNSD is a girl's group—and for those of you who know Left 4 Dead…yeah. It's blood and gore nonstop. It'll all be non-canon of course, but it's still epic, and I hope to get a good start there and return to Minecraft fan fiction once I get a new idea. **

**Look for profile "hangar18" on the Asian fanfic site—for those of you who know that reference, congratulations—and please read and review there! Sayonara, and thanks for reading and enjoying "The Gathering Storm"!**

**Sincerely,**

**Exb756**


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